It's You I Hear So Loud And Clear
by soulpicnic
Summary: This is a journey of two friends trying to bring back hope and happiness into each other's worlds. Slightly depressing, but I believe in happy endings. WARNING: Middle to later chapters involve abuse, so please read the fic with hope and rose-colored glasses.
1. Prologue

1. Rachel, i hate you. :P

2. English isn't my first language, so I'm sorry in advance for all of the mistakes (and I'm sure there's gonna be a lot of it) in this fic.

3. Hope you stick around. But most importantly, I hope _I_ stick around long enough to finish this. So much pressure...

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><p><strong>Prologue<strong>

Where do you go when you're lonely?

Santana goes to a tree. A lonely, forgotten tree in a secluded area that nobody ever goes to because without the cheerful colors of the swing sets, monkey bars and the slide, or the carefree sounds of laughing children, it is simply the most depressing corner of the park.

She doesn't really know why she's drawn to the tree in the first place. She used to think the tree was beautiful— at least, that _seemed _to be the reason why she decided to stop and stared at the tree one day.

Well, now that she thinks about it… it _is_ kind of pretty. All Linden trees are. But she knows now that it wasn't the reason at all. The tree, because of its size, stands there alone. She's not sure if it was intentionally put there all by itself, or if with time everything else just sort of… moved away.

"You and I, tree," she huffs, sitting on the ground with her back leaning to the tree. "We're kind of the same, right? We're both here. We didn't have any choice to _be_ anywhere else. I'm alone, you're alone. Et cetera, et cetera."

Yes. Sometimes Santana would talk to the tree and she would hear it answer. But, every time, she would shake her head and chuckle because obviously she has lost her marbles. (_What are you doing, Santana, talking to a tree?) _Not that she would mind it though because sometimes all she wanted to do is lose all the voices in her head. And there are so many. Most of them pose questions. But none offer the answers.

After a long while of silence, Santana scoffs loudly. "You know what? I take that back. _I'm_ alone, but you're probably not. Lots of green stuff around, so you're probably laughing at me right now. Like, 'why does this crazy chick keep coming back' or something. Whatever. Go ahead and mock me with your stupid leaves and your stupid branches and your stupid baby birds waiting in their stupid nests. Just so you know, I'm totally pulling the grass out of the ground for revenge."

But as it turns out, Santana doesn't have the patience to even follow through with her threat, nor the heart. After the second angry handful of grass, she leans back on the tree and gives it a pat. "Sorry," she said. "Bad day. Like always."

Santana turns her attention to the rest of the park. She can see the bright colors of the playground, along with the children running amok in delight. "Look at them," she says bitterly to nobody but herself, and of course the tree. "So freaking happy."

A sudden gust of wind makes Santana shiver not out of cold, but out of the overwhelming pang that she's feeling inside. She thinks she should've gotten used to it by now, but _face it, Santana._ _You'll never get used to it._

She brings her knees closer to her chest and wraps her arms around them (because if she doesn't, who's going to hold her?).

"Marco," she whispers to the wind.

The wind answers her nothing.

/

"_Daddy?"_

"_Yes, Santana?"_

"_There are so many people here," 5-year-old Santana said as she tightened her little fingers around her father's hand. _

"_It's a fair, Santanita," her father smiled at her. "Of course there are. Everybody's here."_

_Santana's eyes widened in horror. "Everybody?"_

"_Well, not everybody," her father laughed. "But almost everyone we know are here. There," he pointed to a middle-aged couple near the popcorn stand and Santana's gaze followed his direction. "You see? Mr. and Mrs. Wade from next door. And there's the Postman," he points again to a different spot. "I saw a couple of your teachers hanging around the coffee stand. And you said hi to many of your friends at the parking lot, remember? Stacey, Luke, Jennifer, Ben and that boy from the playground."_

"_Adam."_

"_Yes, Adam," he nodded. "Lots of people."_

"_What if I got lost? What if we got separated?" She asked again, stopping on her tracks now and effectively stopping Antonio from taking another step._

"_Hey now," he said. It was his turn to squeeze her hand now. "We won't," he smiled to her again, this time earning a tiny, though still uncertain, smile from the little girl desperately clinging on to his hand._

"_Tell you what," Antonio kneeled so that he was looking straight at Santana's eyes. "If we get separated, which I'm sure we won't, you yell 'Marco' as loud as you can," he said, taking both of her hands into his. "I will hear your voice, and then I can yell back—"_

"_As loud as you can?" Santana cut him off and he chuckled._

"_Yes, as loud as I can. I'll yell 'Polo' back at you. And we'll keep yelling until we find each other." He brought her tiny hands to his lips and gave them a loving peck before looking up again. "How about that?"_

_Santana bit her lip. She searched her father's eyes. For what? She didn't know. She guessed, many years later, it was for some kind of a reassurance. Or maybe strength. The kind of strength that she wouldn't— couldn't— ever find in anybody else._

_Once, Violet Stubbs asked Santana when they were taking turns pushing the swing, which of her parents that she loved the most. All this time, Santana had thought she loved both of her parents equally, so she had a really hard time choosing. But Violet kept pushing and pushing for an answer, until Santana just couldn't help but yell her answer. And she was surprised. Not at the answer itself, but at how clear the answer actually was. _My daddy_, she had told Violet. _He's my own personal Superman_._

"_Okay," she finally said._

_Antonio smiled happily. "Okay? Are you sure? If you want, we can always go home."_

_Santana shook her head furiously. "No," she said, "I wanna see the fair with you."_

_And with that Santana started to walk. This time eagerly leading Antonio to make their way through the crowd. But before they got very far, she felt a tug that made her stop. _

"_Wait, Santana."_

_She looked up to Antonio. "Sorry, Daddy. Am I going too fast?"_

"_No, no. You're fine," he kneeled again. "I just want you to know that even though we have our Marco Polo plan, and that there is an ocean of people here, you can never lose me. And you know why?" He flicked her nose and Santana shook her head._

"_Because_ I_ won't lose _you_." Antonio said, bringing their tangled fingers right in front of their eyes and gave her hand another squeeze. "See?" he asked, and that earned himself a hug from his small daughter. _

"_Promise, Daddy?"_

"_I won't let go if you don't, Santanita."_

_/_

"Liar," she said, gritting her teeth in anger. "You fucking let go_._"


	2. Here We Are

_A/N: It's all a learning process, really :)_

_Disclaimer: I don't own anything._

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><p>May 27, 2005.<p>

Twelve-year-old Santana Lopez stood before a white front door, on the porch of a house that was, in her opinion, sickeningly perfect. Perfectly groomed rose beds, perfectly clear and shiny windows, perfect everything. There wasn't even a single crack on the paint covering the house. It's nauseating, really, but she took comfort on the fact that she hadn't seen what's on the other side of those walls, and what was there couldn't be _that_ flawless.

"Santana, honey," said the woman next to her, a middle-aged woman with a funny name and an even funnier smell. A mix of cheap cologne and Vicks, and a hint of garlic. Santana couldn't even begin to understand that last part. How could anyone smell like garlic every. Single. Day?

"Santana," she called again.

Once again Santana didn't answer. Nor did she even bother to look up to the woman.

The woman gave in and huffed. "Santana, if you don't want to look at me, it's perfectly fine. I know you're listening."

Getting no response from the little girl, she continued. "The woman that you're about to meet, her name is Emma, is going to take care of you from now on, OK? She passed all the requirements so I can assure you that you will be taken care of. There are already two boys in the house. But I didn't handle their case, so I can't tell you what they're like. But I'm sure you'll get along just fine," she paused. "_Please_ try to get along, OK?"

Santana watched as the woman next to her started to knock on the door but quickly diverted her eyes once the knocking was over.

"Just a minute," said the voice from inside, and Santana had a fleeting thought about how friendly the voice was. She couldn't decide if the beating in her heart was from annoyance, the start of her breaking down, or worse— the potential of actually liking whomever it was rushing to the door.

She heard some hustling from behind the door before it was finally opened. A woman appeared from behind it, sporting a big smile. "Yes?"

"Hi," said the woman next to Santana. She extended her arm for a handshake. "I'm Maria Katorjevskaya and this is Santana. We're from the group home? We talked on the phone?"

"Oh, hello," the red-haired woman looked at Maria's hand before nervously accepting the handshake. "I'm Emma," she said as she tried to subtly wipe her hand on the apron that she was wearing. She took one look at Santana and beamed with excitement.

_Those are really big eyes_, Santana thought.

oOoOo

Sitting on the couch in the middle of the living room, Santana couldn't help but correct and scold herself. The interior of the house _was_ in fact as flawless as the exterior. Everything was squeaky clean and, to her surprise (and a little bit of appreciation), the house wasn't overly decorated. All of the visible knickknacks, and there weren't many of them, around the house seemed important— like they had certain meanings, or at least memories, behind them.

There were pictures hanging on the wall across Santana. Not many, but enough to kind of introduced her to members of her new household. There were no names or anything, but she got the gist of it. The man with the curly hair with his arms around the red-haired lady was probably her husband, and the two boys in a couple of the frames must be the other foster kids that Maria had mentioned earlier.

"I'm sorry it's such a mess," she heard Emma say, suddenly bringing her back from her leering. Santana crunched her eyebrows together. If_this _was a mess, the lady should really come and visit the community home that Santana lived in for the last year. Maybe even consider becoming the cleaning lady or something. God knows that place needed some TLC. One building, Thirty seven kids. 'Messy' didn't even come close.

Santana eyed Emma closely. She was wearing a white blouse with a Peter Pan collar, a pencil skirt, and a mini apron thing that had pockets on it. In the pockets were a worn out toothbrush, a piece of cloth that Santana thought looked like Shamwow, and a pair of latex gloves. Santana internally nodded at her deduction. So _that's_ why the house is spotless. Gathered with the way Emma wiped her hand right after she shook Maria's, it was obvious that she was a clean freak.

"Oh, no," Maria said. She waved her hand dismissing Emma's apology. "Your house is lovely. _Very_ lovely. Right, Santana?" She gently nudged Santana on the elbow and smiled.

The girl in question turned her head toward Maria, then at Emma, who was sitting on an armchair right across the couch. Her hands were clasped together with their fingers intertwined. She was smiling coyly, but those eyes couldn't hide her anticipation of what Santana could say. Like what other people thought of her home actually brought her joy.

Santana shrugged. She really wanted to just lie to their faces because, frankly, she didn't care about this house or much about everything else, even. But it _was_ kind of lovely. Certainly a huge upgrade from what she was used to and she kind of wondered what it would feel like to live not with 36 other children. So, "yes," she said simply, before looking away again. She missed it, but Emma looked very pleased with her answer.

Santana tuned out everything that she was supposed to be hearing right now. Nothing mattered enough for her to be listening. Paperwork. Background. Regulations. State regulations. Contact numbers. Maria's voice. Emma's voice. Nothing. Not even how Emma told Maria that she would look out for Santana as long as needed, with the utmost care. She heard what Emma said, but didn't _listen _to it. Why should she, if people go back on their words all the time? Her own father did, so why _should_ she bother?

Santana didn't know how much time was spent sitting there on the couch, motionless. Somewhere along the way, she ran out of things to stare at and got lost in her own thoughts. She jumped a little when she felt Maria nudge her elbow, trying to get her attention. "Santana," Maria said. "Are you alright?"

Wordlessly, Santana shrugged. In all honesty, she didn't know. Not that she cared about giving a truthful answer. She just hoped that the gesture would make them leave her alone.

Luckily the woman sitting on the armchair seemed to get the message.

"Santana," Emma said as she poured some more tea into Maria's cup and Santana wished people would just stop saying her name in that tone— like they had to say it carefully so that she wouldn't break. She's not a freaking vase. "Do you want to go upstairs and check out your room? It's the third door down. It's the one with— oh, you know what? I'm going to be quiet now. Will and I wanted to surprise you, so you go on ahead and find the room. We did a little something to it and made it more… girly." Emma did some silent, small clap. "I really, really think you'd like it." She put on a big grin on her face and all Santana could think of was whether or not Emma was high on something. She MUST be.

The way Emma was so chirpy all the time reminded Santana of a couple of her previous housemates. They were several years older than her, and no form of communication was ever shared except for a couple of polite nods— just because they were living the same building. Sometimes those bigger kids would sneak into someone's room and get high from _anything_ they could get a hold on. Pot. Ecstasy. Paint thinner. Seriously anything. And one girl in particular would practically hop her way from one spot to another, and talk 120mph the whole day until she would eventually crash from exhaustion. She never knew how they were never caught. Then again, the community home had so many kids to attend to. Too many, even, that they had to relocate some children. Including Santana, and that was why she was here.

"Santana?" Emma called, looking worried because the little girl sitting on her couch didn't even budge. "Do you need me to come with you?"

Santana quickly shook her head, "no." She stood up and swung her duffel bag onto her shoulder before turning around to Maria. "Bye," she said, and without another word she made her way to the stairs.

"I'm sorry," she heard Maria said to Emma. "I know I shouldn't be making excuses, but she's been through a lot. All of our kids have."

Emma gave Maria a sad, understanding smile. "It's alright. I'm used to it. Noah and Max were that way too. Well, Noah was the harder shell to crack, actually. Max was a lovely boy from the beginning."

"Noah and Max?" Maria asked.

Emma nodded. "Noah and Max," she pointed to a picture hanging on the wall. "The two boys that Will and I took in almost a year ago."

"Oh I see," Maria smiled. She picks up her tea. "Where are they now?"

"Well, Max got a football scholarship. He left for Columbus last week, actually," Emma made small claps with her hands and brought them back to her knees. "It's sad that he had to go, but Will and I… we are _so_ proud of him," she cleared her throat.

"And Noah?"

"Noah…" Emma trailed off. "He can be a little bit tricky," she smiled. "He can be difficult sometimes. He's a good boy— he's just… misguided."

"Ah," Maria nodded. "I understand completely."

oOoOo

_Third door down… Third door do— oh._

Santana stopped right in front of her door and examined the pink, flowery wooden board that was hanging on it. "Santana," it said in cursive letters, and she rolled her eyes. Letting people know where to find her was definitely _not_ in her To-Do list. Or _any_ list, for that matter. Plus, the board was _so_ not her. Too many flowers. Too pink. Too sweet. Too… Emma. So with a swift motion she yanked the board off from where it was hanging and opened the door.

"Oh my God," she said to herself the second she was in the room, mouth hanging open. She put her bag down and sat on one of the two beds in the room. She looked around and she wondered if she would wake up as Emma one day, what with all the flowers on the wall, the pink sheets, and the cheesy framed stencil artwork that said "Home Sweet Home."

"I'm gonna turn into her someday, aren't I?" She mumbled to herself as she covered her face with her hands.

oOoOo

"So, what's Santana's story?" Emma asked. "She seems… quiet."

"She's not, really," Maria put down her teacup back onto the coaster. "She's quiet now just because she hasn't made a complete assessment about you. She may be quiet as a mouse now, but she _will_ try and tear you down."

"Oh…"

Seeing that the woman in front of her was practically green, Maria quickly added, "But I'm not telling you this to scare you away, believe me."

"Oh, no, no. I won't run away," Emma said as she waved her hand to dismiss any negative thoughts in the room. "I'm just… a little bit worried, I suppose."

Maria let out a sigh of relief. "Good. Thank you. I'm just letting you know that it _will_ be difficult with her. We all worry about our children. They're all lost, you know?" She looked up to see Emma nod with understanding. "We're just here to help them find their way back. Some do it quickly, like Max," she pointed to the picture frame, which Emma returned with a proud smile. "And some take longer," Maria concluded.

"And Santana?" Emma turned her head towards the staircase.

Maria huffed before answering the question. "She still has a long way to go."

"That bad?"

"Well," Maria said, trying to find the right words to start the conversation. "like I said, she's been through a lot. Maybe not as bad as some of the other kids who are currently in the system, but it's still tough to go through." She paused. "Do you want to hear the whole story?"

Emma gulped. "Yes, please."

oOoOo

"Hey," said a boy. Santana rolled her eyes. She _knew_ she should've closed that damned door. At least she could've pretended to not hear the person standing there. It's too late now.

"Helloooo?" The boy said again, this time taking a few steps into the room, clearly curious about the new member of the household. "Man, you're a quiet one."

"Did I tell you you could come in?" Santana asked coldly without even turning around and continued unpacking her bag. She knew she didn't have a lot of stuff, so she started doing it slowly, in the hopes that the boy could see that she was, in fact, busy, and leave her alone.

"No," the boy shrugged. Obviously, her strategy didn't work. "But you didn't say I couldn't either."

"Well, you can't."

"Guess what," the boy said. "I'm already here."

"Get out."

"Ha. How bout… no," the boy chuckled and Santana could feel her blood slowly boiling.

After a couple of silent seconds, the boy talked again. "What's your name? I'm Puck. Emma calls me Noah. But I got Will to call me Puck, so it's just a matter of time before I get her to call me Puck too. Or maybe Puckasaurus." He paused. "Or Puckzil—"

Santana turned around and glared at this… this _creature_ that dared to interrupt her peace and quiet. "I said," she hissed. "Get. Out."

Puck held both his hands up. "Okay, okay. I'm going. Jeez, rude much? No wonder you're in foster care." And just like that, he walked out of the room, leaving behind one very upset Santana. She waited a couple of seconds to make sure that Noah, Puck, or whatever his name was, was gone before slamming her door shut.

oOoOo

"She lost her mother to a car accident when she was about 8. So it was just Santana and her dad for a while. From what I've read on the reports and from talking to the neighbors, they were really close. I mean, even when the mother was still around, they had that special bond. She was daddy's little girl, basically," Maria smiled to Emma.

"Then what happened?"

"Well," Maria cleared her throat. "Antonio Lopez loved her wife more than anything. And when she died, he just… I guess sometimes he would miss her a lot more than he could ever take it. The neighbors said he'd be okay when Santana was around. But in reality, the loss became too much for him. So, one unfortunate day, just before she turned 9, Santana came home from school and found her dad, um," Maria took a deep breath. "She found him hanging from the ceiling."

"Oh my God."

"She found him hanging from the ceiling and the poor girl tried cutting down the rope herself by climbing on top of a dresser. But she couldn't reach it. So she ran outside and knocked on the neighbor's door to get him down. The neighbor called 911, and she's been in the system ever since." Maria said. "As you know, she bounced around for a while because they had no relatives that would take her in, and that she had to stay at the group home with all the other children. But then they needed the space for the bigger kids so now… here we are."

There was a sound of a door being slammed and Emma nodded. "Here we are."


	3. Doors

_A/N: Thank you for all the alerts and faves :) Sorry this took a while._

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><p><strong>Day one. Or what was left of it.<strong>

The first night after Maria dropped her off, Santana didn't even come down for dinner. For some reason, unpacking her stuff worn her out, even though she only had one bag. _Isn't it sad_, she thought as she slid the duffel bag under the bed. _One freaking bag, and it fits my whole life._

She plopped herself down on one of the beds (she chose the one that looked like it has the least flowers on its sheets) and stared at the ceiling. She lift up one hand to see how high it was, and the ceiling looked so far away. It felt like she had all the space in the world and she kind of liked it. Kind of.

She didn't know how long she was lost in her thoughts. She just knew that it was already dark outside when she heard Emma knocking on her door, telling her that dinner was going to be ready in less than an hour. Then she heard a man's voice about 45 minutes after that— she assumed it was Will— telling her that dinner was ready. Neither voice got an answer from the girl, so both Emma and Will decided to leave her alone. Which was good, because that was all Santana had wanted.

Santana stayed quiet in the darkness. She laid very still on her bed and tried to listen to the hustle and bustle from downstairs. It wasn't very hard to do, really. First of all, she was already used to keeping still and quiet. The manager (or the 'warden', as she liked to call it) down at the group home had supersonic ears. He would bark at the children whenever they get too noisy, especially during the evening. Every now and then Santana would stare at the man from afar and try to identify any traces of bat-like features. With that super hearing (not to mention a face only a mother could love), he couldn't be _all_ human.

Second of all, she'd noticed that the doors had gaps under them and they brought drafts _and_ voices into rooms even though they were all seemingly closed. Funnily enough, that was something that kind of pacified her— that there _was_ something less than immaculate in this house. Throughout the afternoon, she couldn't stop thinking about how _freaking fantastic_ it was that she was now living with real life Bree Van Der Kamp. Oh yeah, she knew the show. The group home only had one TV for the whole building, and that meant watching whatever it was the supervisor on duty was watching.

"Why isn't she coming down?" Puck asked and even though walls separated them, Santana didn't miss the annoyed tone in his voice.

"Noah," Emma pointedly said to him. "She probably fell asleep. When I was up there, I didn't see any lights from under the door."

"Yeah, but you made all these food for her," Puck said again. "She's being ungrateful. I mean, I know I can be a jerk sometimes, but I still respect people." He paused. "AT LEAST I APPRECIATE IT WHEN SOMEONE MADE ME A WHOLE DAMN FEAST," he yelled with his head turned towards the staircase just to make sure the new girl heard it, and he quickly got scolded by Will calling his name.

oOoOo

**Day two.**

"Emma said lunch is gonna be ready in half an hour."

_I _really_ need to start double checking if the door's properly closed_, Santana mentally kicked herself. She didn't answer Puck's question. Hopefully he would magically disappear if she just ignored him.

Unfortunately, that didn't happen. Puck took her silence as a permission to enter the room and made his way around it, stopping at random things that attracted his eyes. He was very thorough with his exploration. Sometimes he'd lift an item up, bring it closer, inspect the object, and put it back onto its original spot. Nothing was missed. The closet, the random tchotchkes that Emma had put on top of the dresser, Santana's hairbrush on the vanity, even that 'Home Sweet Home' stencil. Every few seconds Santana would steal glances at him from behind the newspaper that she was reading, making sure he didn't cross the line further with her belongings. She tried not to care, but the next thing she knew the boy got that much closer to where she was sitting. She couldn't help but being annoyed.

"Go away," she told him with her best scowl.

"I just want to get to know you," he turned to face her.

"Yeah, well I don't want to get to know _you,_" she spat.

Puck scoffed. "You're feisty," he said. "And pretty, too. Too bad you're a… you know, a total bitch." He paused. "Don't tell Will and Emma I said that."

Santana huffed. This boy is seriously annoying.

"Why are you reading a newspaper that's 2 years old?"

Santana felt her heart jump out of her ribcage. "None of your business," she said quickly in an irritated tone. She neatly folded the newspaper, opened the nightstand's top drawer and laid the newspaper down carefully before closing the drawer again.

"Do I need to kick you in the fucking balls— and trust me, I have no problems with reducing your chances of ever having spawns to none— or are you going to leave me alone?" She asked Puck, totally annoyed by his invasion.

"You said the F word," Puck gasped and his eyes widened. It's not like he didn't know the word, but Will and Emma would never approve that sort of language in the house. And like he said the other night, he might be a jerk, but he respected Will and Emma enough to actually changed his behavior in the house.

Santana shrugged. "You called me a bitch."

oOoOo

**Day Three.**

Both Puck and Will were missing from the breakfast table that morning. Santana snuck a glance at the empty chairs and pretended that she didn't even notice they were gone. Unfortunately Emma turned around just in time to see the girl's failed attempt at hiding her curiosity.

"Noah has a football game with the neighborhood kids. Will likes to cheer him on, just like we cheered on Max," Emma explained with a warm smile. After a few seconds silence and what seemed to be contemplation on her end, Emma cleared her throat and put on a serious face. "I need to give you a heads up about something," she said. "Noah is very sensitive about his dad. He left when Max and Noah was very little, so it's still a sore subject and he doesn't like to talk about it. The only reason I'm telling you this is to avoid future misunderstandings. So, please don't bring it up, OK?"

Santana nodded wordlessly and that satisfied Emma. She then put a plate of scrambled eggs and toast in front of the girl. "You didn't have dinner last night. So eat up!" Emma handed Santana a fork with the prongs facing in. When the girl took the fork, Emma gave her a smile and just like the first day they had met, she did a small applause. Santana wasn't sure if the applause was intended for her, or if it was done to cheer on Emma herself. Either way, it was somewhat creepy and extremely lame.

Emma went back to the stove and started cleaning the mess that she created while she was fixing breakfast. "Oh," she suddenly said. "How do you like your room, Santana?" She asked. For a brief moment she turned her head to face Santana, but turned back around again to continue her cleaning spree. Santana observed her shoulders moving furiously as she scrubbed the kitchen counter and shook her head. There was barely any mess on it when she came down for breakfast. She could've just swiped the whole area with a wet paper towel but no, that wouldn't do for this crazy lady.

She lowered her eyes and started to push her food around. How _did _she like it? It was OK, she guessed. Definitely an upgrade from the bunk beds at the group home. At least now she had privacy. All she needed to do was close the door and people would leave her alone. So she guessed she kind of like it. But she reminded herself that she couldn't. And it was nobody's business to know what she thought. So Santana, like always, shrugged. "It's… pink," she said. The best answer she could think of without revealing anything. No 'yes', no 'no', no feelings revealed. Safest answer there was.

oOoOo

**Day Four.**

The next morning, Santana woke up (really) early. 3AM early. All of her doing nothing the day before took its toll on her and she actually got annoyed at the fact that it wasn't even morning yet when her back hurt from lying down too much. She got out of the room quietly and locked herself in the bathroom just because she didn't want to be in her bed any longer.

Santana spent the first 20 minutes sitting on the edge of the bathtub with her foot tapping on the floor— sometimes she'd tap it to whatever song that she was singing in her head, sometimes she'd tap it just because. Then she spent another 20 minutes reading all the labels on the random bottles and packaging she found in the cabinet. After that, she contemplated mixing some cleaning agents found under the sink to see if any combination would result in an explosion. She had seen some kids from the group home prank the janitor. They blew up a bottle of Clorox in one of the bathrooms. She thought it was mean at first, but then she saw the bathroom tiles turn light blue from plain white and she quickly dismissed the thought. It looked pretty, _and_ she was pretty sure the tiles would stay clean for 30 long years. She smirked to her reflection on the bathroom mirror. _I'm doing Lady Clean Freak a favor_, she told herself. But just when she started to uncap one of the bottles, she heard a knock on the door.

"Santana," it was Will's voice. "Are you OK in there?"

With a huff and an eye roll, Santana quickly put the cleaning product back into its place and closed the cupboard.

"Oh, good. You're OK," Will said to her when she finally opened the door. "I thought you fainted or something," he put his hand lightly on her shoulder and Santana flinched a little. She wasn't used to people touching her. At least, not anymore. If there was anything the past three years had taught her, it's that less physical contact means less emotional attachment. A million times better than the opposite. What's the use of getting to know people, or getting them to know you, if they would just leave in the end, right? It's not like you could take a friend down your grave anyway.

Santana made the tiniest movement with her shoulder so that Will would take his hand off her. Luckily the man got the hint. "Sorry," he said with a guilty grimace on his face. He took a step back and, even though he was still right in front of her, gave Santana a small, awkward wave. "I'm Will. Emma's husband."

Santana rolled her eyes. "I know."

"Oh," Will was taken aback already with her hostility. "OK. Great. Um, sorry I haven't been around. Been busy with end-of-semester meetings with the teachers at McKinley, then I went to Puck's game yesterday. One of the parents invited us to an after game barbecue, and when we got home Emma said you were already asleep in your room."

Santana shrugged and crossed her arms. "Whatever. It's fine." She diverted her gaze to Puck who had just gotten up and was now leaning on his doorway, smirking at the sight of her and Will. "Didn't care," Santana said to Will while keeping her eyes at Puck.

"Oh. Uh, OK then," Will said again, taking a step back. Watching her face turning hostile but looking right past him, he turned around to see what was behind him. Sure enough, he saw Puck making faces at Santana. "Puck," he called. "Go get ready, buddy. The fish won't wait for us."

Puck beamed. "Awesome," he said with a fist pump.

Even though she didn't show it, Santana was genuinely surprised to see such a happy face. She tried to, but she couldn't remember the last time she had seen a boy with that particular expression. Then again, her previous living arrangement wasn't exactly the happiest place on earth— so she shouldn't be this upset about not being able to remember the last time she saw her own face contort into joy like that.

After Puck went back into his room, Will turned around to give Santana an apologetic smile and mentioned to her that he had promised to take Puck fishing— not that she hadn't figured it out herself. "We're going to camp out, so we won't be home until late tomorrow," he said. "Looks like it's just you and Emma these two days. Fun, right? Woo!" He made a lame attempt to cheer but his hands came back down again when he saw that the girl in front of him was clearly unimpressed.

Santana gave him a half-assed smile and stepped away. She didn't see Will or Puck again before they drove off to whatever lake they were heading to.

The rest of Santana's day went by smoothly. She fixed herself some cereal for breakfast and sat out on the porch the whole day, people watching, while Emma, being the crazy obsessed lady that she was, seemed to be having fun with her toothbrush and rags, re-polishing all of the perfectly polished surfaces in the house. The only time they spoke to each other was when the lady of the house fixed them both lunch and dinner. Emma asked her easy questions and Santana would answer with a simple 'yes', 'no', or an 'I guess', but the older woman never once forced her to explain her answer. Not that Santana would've given any.

oOoOo

**Day five.**

"Santana," called Emma from behind the refrigerator door. She had spent the whole afternoon rearranging things in the kitchen according to their expiration dates, and it sounded like she was finally happy with the result. "Would you like to come with me to get some groceries for dinner?"

Santana didn't answer right away. The truth is, she didn't know if she wanted to or not. On one hand, she was dead bored. Staring at the ceiling had lost its appeal after the first day. At least when she was still living at the group home there was a lot of distractions. She didn't interact much with any of kids there— in fact, most of them intentionally avoided her as best as they could and that was something she was proud of— but when there was absolutely nothing else to do, she could always hang back and observe her housemates as they create a ruckus over everything without getting any intrusions. This house, however, didn't have anything else besides the TV. And she's _not_ ready to become best friends with Maury and Judge Judy. She _did _saw a glimpse of a piano in Will's home office, but maybe she shouldn't cross that line yet.

But anyway, on the other hand, getting groceries would mean actually spending the day with Emma. Something that she'd never had to do before. It meant that she would have to ride in the same car, stroll down the same aisles (presumably side by side, with Emma picking up the items and her pushing the cart), and then spend more time putting away the groceries once they got home. Sure, they successfully spent the first three days without any incidents. But that was because Santana spent most of her time in her room while Emma was completely lost in her dust busting superhero duties.

So. Groceries? Or watch Judge Judy lay down the law to a couple of hillbillies?

Seeing the lines that formed on Santana's face, Emma took a few steps towards her. "You know what?" she said with a big smile. "I'm going to decide for you, and you're going with me. So go get changed. I'll see you in the car. Come on," she beckoned with her hand. "Chop-ch—"

"Excuse me?" Santana cut her off. She couldn't believe her ears. Sure, she was having a hard time deciding, but who made this mad woman queen? "You're _deciding_ for me?" She asked Emma, with her fingers in the air, making exaggerated quotation marks. Emma's smile faltered. She opened her mouth to try and rephrase the things that she had said. But before she got anything out, Santana was already standing on her feet, ready to tear her down.

"No. You listen to me, _Emma_. I didn't have a say about this," Santana waved her hands around, gesturing between her and Emma, "this _dumb_living arrangement. I was perfectly _fine_ living in that stupid barn with 30 other kids. You may _think_ that you own me because you took me in. But you're wrong," she continued. Her voice got louder and louder with every word coming out of her mouth. Emma just stood there. Both of her hands gripped the hem of her apron and started twisting it nervously. She bit her lip so hard that she could taste iron in her mouth. "Let's be real here. You're doing this for your own selfish reasons. The only reason why you're so willing to take kids like me in is because you _like_playing house. You _like_ cleaning things that don't need to be cleaned. You _like_ cooking food for people because a) it makes you feel good, and b) otherwise you'll be eating alone. You're not in it because you care. You're just in it because you like how _pretending_ you care makes you feel. Now _excuse me_ because I _just_ decided that I'm _not _coming with you to get groceries."

Santana made her way upstairs, intentionally bumping into Emma's shoulder as she walked. She stopped halfway on the staircase to give Emma her last piece of mind before continuing her steps. "I'll be out of here in the morning. Don't even bother calling my caseworker. I'm sure the group home will have an extra mattress somewhere."

Once Emma realized what the 12-year-old was saying, she snapped out of her shock and turned around. "Santana," she tried to call the young girl, but all she got was the sound of the door being slammed.

oOoOo

**Day 6. Well, almost.**

Santana jolted up from her sleep. She felt a presence in her room, and for a short while she thought she was having a heart attack when she saw a dark shadow in the corner. She had always thought she would die young, but she never thought it would happen in her own room— well, soon to be ex-room. Once that shadow started talking, though, she started breathing normally again. It was Puck.

"What the hell did you say to her?" Puck asked and for the first time ever since the day she stepped into that house, Santana felt threatened. This was not the Puck she had talked to the day before. But she wasn't about to admit that she was actually scared.

"What the hell?" she scowled. "It's almost freaking midnight!" Santana turned on the light that was sitting on the nightstand and got out of her bed. "And don't you ever knock?" She crossed her arms waiting for an answer and fixed her stare at his eyes.

Puck didn't back down. He took a step forward and maintained their eye contact. "I only knock on a door when I'm sure that the person inside is worth the effort," he said coldly, and Santana scoffed. "I'm going to ask you again," he said. "_What_ did you say to her?"

Santana scrunched her eyebrows. She took another step because she wasn't happy that Puck, once again, was invading her space. "You have a habit of asking about things that aren't your business, don't you?"

"What," he took another step, "did you say," and another, "to her?"

Santana gulped, and she thanked God that the room wasn't lit enough for Puck to see that her front wavered. She needed to be in control, and Puck wasn't giving her a way out. So she made one. She walked to the door, opened it, and made a gesture with her hands that told Puck he needed to leave.

"For the millionth time this week," she said to Puck. "Get. Out."

Puck didn't move. "I won't go. Not until you answer. Tell me what you said to her. Why was she scrubbing the kitchen tiles like a maniac when Will and I got home?"

Santana laughed. "What? You came sneaking into my room because she was scrubbing the tiles? Newsflash, you idiot. She's a clean freak. She'd scrub anything in sight."

"NOT AT 10.30 AT NIGHT!" Puck yelled at her unexpectedly and Santana jumped. She couldn't believe how mad Puck was. She could see the veins popping on his forehead and the shade of red that was starting to creep up his face.

"Calm down, dumbass. You're gonna wake up everyone," she said, trying to regain control.

"Nobody's here," said Puck, now with a lower volume. "Will took Emma for ice cream to calm her down." He paused, taking deep, deep breaths. "Do you have _any _idea what you've done? Do you? She was doing _so _well with her OCD. I don't know what caused it in the first place, but I_know _she was getting better. Her therapy was working. Her doctor said she could start taking less medication. We were _so_ proud of her. Will. Max. Me. All of us."

Santana shifted her weight from one foot to the other but kept her eye contact. She wasn't sure why she hadn't kick him in the nuts yet for creeping into her room, but _screw him if he thought I would give in_, she thought.

"And she was _so_ freaking happy that there was going to be a girl living with us. But you," Puck walked in her direction and talked through his gritted teeth. "You ruined everything. I don't know what you said exactly, but Will and Emma is my family. You mess with my family, you mess with me. You thought just because you had a bad past, you're privileged to act like a bitch to everyone. Guess what, Santana? The world doesn't revolve around you!"

Puck poked her shoulder and Santana lost her cool. She slapped away Puck's hand. "Get your hands off me! You know nothing about me!" She didn't hesitate to yell at her speaking opponent now that she knew the house was empty."

"I know enough! I know you lost both your parents and that's how you ended up in the system like me!"

"Yeah, well at least I know they're not coming back because they can't," she hissed at him. She was relieved that Will apparently only told him the gist of it, and not her full story. "What about you, huh? Your dad is still alive somewhere, but he's not coming back because guess what, Noah? He doesn't want you!"

Puck's eyes widened and his face was red all over. "You take that back!"

Santana smirked. "No."

"Take that back!" Puck yelled. He kept reminding himself that hitting a girl was never an option. But oh, how he wished that it was. "Take that back or I'll make you pay."

"I can't take back the truth," Santana smiled smugly and rested her hands on her waist. She wasn't afraid of him anymore. She won this round. Or so she thought, before Puck launched his fist to a spot on the wall right next to Santana's temple.

"Your dad," Puck said slowly, now with tears brimming in his eyes. "Your dad killed himself." He then pulled his hand and rubbed his knuckle on his way out. "He didn't love you enough to stay."

When Puck was no longer in the room, Santana clenched her jaw. She stood there, in shock, just like how Emma had stood still in the living room earlier in the day. The difference was that Emma had her cleaning supplies, a husband, and apparently a really obnoxious boy who genuinely cared about his foster parents ready to comfort her.

Santana? Santana had nothing. All she had was herself. And so, as soon as she heard Puck's door being slammed shut, she slumped back against the wall and wrapped her arms around herself. In the middle of her crying (which she continued until she fell asleep), she bitterly laughed at how pathetic it was for her to not having anybody to hold on to.

oOoOo

**Day six. The real day six.**

"You were right, Santana," a voice startled her as Santana tiptoed to the front door with her duffel bag on her shoulder. It was Emma, sitting in an armchair in the living room where she sat the first day Santana had stepped her foot into the house.

"I am _all_ those things. I'm a clean freak. I _love_ playing house. I _love _cooking for people because a) it _does_ make me feel good, and b) I really,_really_ don't like eating alone. And I was… wrong… to be so bold as I was that I forgot that you can make your own decisions." She paused and took a deep breath.

"But you were wrong about one thing. I may have my own selfish reasons, but I _do_ care," she stood up. "And I care enough that I wouldn't mind it one bit if you think I'm pretending. Whatever it takes to make you stay, Santana. I mean it." Emma searched for the girl's eyes. It wasn't very easy to do in the darkness, but she saw them. And there was doubt in those eyes. A good kind of doubt.

"If it means leaving you alone every once in a while, I'll do it. I promise I'll do it. And you don't have to like this house," she continued. "If to you what I'm doing is pretending, then maybe," Emma asked carefully. "Then maybe you can pretend too?"


	4. Poke

_A/N: As always, thank you for the alerts. And to 'Nat', you were right. It was selfish of me to not do my research further. Wish you would make an account though, so I could ask you questions. :)_

_Disclaimer: I, sadly, do not own any of these characters. Except for Max... Not like we care about him anyway._

* * *

><p>When she arrived at the group home after that little incident with Emma a little over a week ago, Maria the Garlic Lady laid down the law and told Santana that there were no more rooms, space, or even mattresses to accommodate her— even after Santana threatened Maria and told her that it didn't matter anyway because she could just sleep on some bench in the park. But Maria knew it was an empty threat— and Santana, as much as she hated to admit it, wasn't <em>that <em>adventurous. So Maria threatened her back— or at least, that was what it sounded like.

Maria had told Santana that if she didn't want to work with the situation and live with the Schuesters, she had no choice but to brave the Juvenile Center until the caseworker could find her a new place. In the back of her mind, Santana was sure that the threat was as empty as hers. But there were so many 'what-ifs' in her head and one of it was 'what if it wasn't?' Santana had a lot of ego, but she wasn't stupid. Just because some kids thought she was scary, it didn't mean she would survive a couple of weeks in the Center.

So, that very afternoon, Maria automatically won the staring contest when Santana abruptly turned on her heels and started to walk to the door without saying a word.

Maria dropped her off at the Schuester residence not long after that and, much to Santana's dismay, apologized for Santana's behavior. Emma gave Maria a small, grateful smile, and she gave Santana nothing else but the same smile and two words, "welcome home."

oOoOo

Santana was going through her days in a coma-like state. It was like she was there, but not really. It was all a routine that her body was programmed to do. Get out of bed, go downstairs, eat breakfast, shower, do nothing, get lunch, do nothing, have dinner, sleep. She would do a little bit of exploring sometimes, scoping out the neighborhood for something worthy of her attention.

She made a few stops at the ice cream parlor, a sorry little excuse for a bookstore (what was she supposed to do with all those dictionaries?), the library (that smelled like mold— that couldn't be good for the books), a toy store (she stepped right back out because the sound of kids laughing annoyed her), and the grocery store (she didn't even know why she bothered). But most of the time she kind of just… drift along.

She would do almost everything she was asked (because it seemed to satisfy the three other people living in that house and it shut them up faster), and answered whenever she was asked (although only with a word. Three, tops). She _never_ initiated a conversation, though. And if _she_ was the one with the question, she would make an effort of figuring things out on her own rather than actually asking. Asking, in her mind, equals crying for help. Crying for help, to her logic, means attachment. And Santana was feeling attached enough by living under Will and Emma's roof. She wasn't sure if she could handle any more of it.

On a positive note, Emma stayed true to her promise. The whole house seemed to be giving Santana a lot of space. Will never made another mistake of touching her and so far, Puck hadn't set another foot inside her bedroom— even though it was probably because he was invited to go camping with his friends and he hadn't been around at all. But that pacified her. At least for now.

"Santana," she heard a voice from behind her. She put down the dishes she was politely asked to do after breakfast and turned off the water. She might be bitter, but she still cared about the world's water supply.

When she turned around, Emma was standing on the doorway looking all proper and beautified. She was wearing make up and was dressed in a semi-formal outfit, which included once again a pencil skirt, an ivory blouse and a mustard sweater. Santana almost rolled her eyes at Emma's predictable ensemble, but in all honesty, she thought that the look fit the older woman and was _almost_ worthy of a compliment. Almost.

"I'm going to see Maria for a bit and won't be back until around four," Emma said. She grabbed the car keys and weighed them for a second. She looked at Santana. "Do you," she cleared her throat. "Do you need me to drop you off somewhere?"

Santana shook her head and crossed her arms. She would rather stay put than to go on a car ride with Emma. Who knows what kind of small talks the woman would attempt?

Emma smiled tight-lipped. "Okay, well," she said as she opened her purse. She pulled out her a $10 bill and put it on the counter. "You can grab some ice cream down at the creamery? Will and I usually eat them at the park. How about that?" Emma slid the money further towards Santana.

Santana examined Emma's face. There was a proud anticipation written on it, as if she was sure she was making way, piercing through Santana's fences. Santana scoffed internally. She uncrossed her arms and reached for the money. "Don't want it," she said, sliding it back to Emma. She turned around and continued doing the dishes. It wasn't long until she heard the front door being opened and closed, and the sound of Emma's car leaving the driveway.

A couple of hours later, without taking the money that Emma had deliberately left on the kitchen counter, Santana decided to go to the ice cream parlor anyway, even though she knew she wasn't going to get anything.

The place was busy with customers, but nobody actually sat down to finish their sundaes. Everybody, except a couple of senior citizens headed outside as soon as their orders were ready. _Ah,_ Santana thought. _The park. Where all the predictable folks go. _She gave herself an eye roll when she realized that her legs were already taking her to the same place. How pathetic.

So Santana walked. She walked and hummed and quietly sang all the songs she had in her head all the way to the park. Not one of them was current. A part of her thought it was cool to know songs that nobody else her age did, but the other part was regretting the fact that every single one of those songs reminded her of that part of her life that wasn't there anymore.

When her parents were still alive, the small Lopez clan had a Sunday morning tradition. Santana's mom, Ines, would occupy the kitchen and make them a whole feast (even though there were only three people in the house) and Santana would help as much as she could with her little hands. Antonio would put on music— always the same record— and travel his way to the kitchen to pull his wife away from the spices. "_Bailar conmigo," _he would say, and Ines would always fight him and say no. But they all knew she would eventually dance and twirl in his arms.

Little Santana would watch them go around the house, laughing and sometimes singing along— she knew all the words— before Ines would declare that it was enough and she needed to go back to cooking. By then, the record would have gone more than half way through and Antonio would swoop Santana off her feet and dance with his little girl until the very last note.

"_Just call my name," _he would sing and Santana would finish the words with a big smile,_ "and I'll be there."_

The memory ended and Santana stopped walking. She was already in the park and standing right before a tree at a desolate area. She stared at it, up and down— and then she did a 360 and got a glimpse of the whole park. It sounded shamelessly inauthentic (not to mention creepy), but she decided to ask anyway. "What's a big tree like you doing in a place like this?"

Something drew her to it, but she couldn't really put a finger on what it was. She put her hand up over the bark and felt each wrinkle, each crease with her fingertips. _So rough_, she thought, but it didn't stop her from leaning her back against it.

She sat down, took a deep breath and closed her eyes. With every breath she could feel her heart expand from remembering all the sounds, the smells. The way the floor tiles had grazed her little feet when she was dancing. It was beautiful, her life. So full of love, Sunday mornings and dancing. The wind blew her a breeze and she felt the corners of her mouth twitch and she surrendered into a smile that she linger simply because it felt really nice.

"_He didn't love you enough to stay."_

Santana's eyes snapped open. She was brought back to reality and just like the first time she heard Puck say it, she clenched her jaw. She was angry. Angry with Puck, angry with Will and Emma for not being able to shut their mouths about her past, but most of all, she was angry with herself.

oOoOo

"So where did you go?" Emma asked Santana, passing the vegetables to Will with her right hand. "You got home pretty late."

"The park." Short and not so sweet.

"Oh?" Will smiled. "Did you like it? It's a great park, right?" He asked as he scoop himself a good helping of peas. "Maybe this weekend we can all go to the park and have a picnic. Us three and Puck. He'll be home tomorrow from camping."

Will went on and on telling the table all the things he liked about the park and Santana conjured up some plans in her head on how to make the man stop talking. The lines on his face, particularly the ones around his mouth, and how they move every time he opened it, somehow made him even more obnoxious and Santana just wanted to punch him in the face. If it weren't for the fact that there was good food between them, she would've lunged at him.

"Look. I don't care, OK?" Santana finally snapped. "I don't care about the stupid playground, the stupid lake, or how you guys being all gooey and disgusting. I went to the park. It was OK. The end."

Santana stabbed her peas with her fork. She couldn't care less if she had offended Will. In her defense, Will offended her first with his overuse of hair products and cheap cologne. So if Will was going to comment about her little remark, Santana was ready to fire a comeback. But, lucky for her (more so for Will, actually), Emma swooped in by putting a hand over Will's and effectively made the man turn his face away from the girl. Soon enough the couple was content talking in their own little bubble. Santana wasn't sure if Emma did it because she really had something to say to Will or if she was just keeping her promise. Either way, Santana was happy about not having Will annoy the hell out of her.

"… and then Maria said we'll be taking in another girl," Emma did her little applause thing again. "Yay!"

_Wait, what? _Santana blinked her eyes. Her eyebrows furrowed and her fork stopped midair from shoving carrots into her mouth. Did she hear right or was she imagining things?

"That's wonderful," said Will, echoing his wife's enthusiasm. "Did you hear that, Santana? You're going to have a roommate!"

oOoOo

_**Child Found Father Dead After Losing Mother in Car Crash**_

_[Lima] A Lima Heights man has been found dead from an apparent suicide in his home, the Lima County Medical Examiner's Office has said._

_Antonio Lopez, 38, was discovered Tuesday by his nine-year-old daughter hanging lifeless from the ceiling fan just months after losing his wife to a tragic accident. The little girl, who had just come home from school, attempted to get him down before knocking on the neighbor's door._

_"It was so sad. I couldn't believe that the girl had to witness all of this. She was crying when she knocked on my door and my wife was consoling her," said Charles Stubbs. "But by the time we got Antonio down, someone from the police department already took her away. I hope she's safe with family somewhere."_

_Ines Lopez, wife of Charles, who's known the family for years, said that the deceased "was a good man. Very polite, always smiling. When his wife passed away, he was truly broken. But I've never seen him being extremely troubled about it. He took care of his daughter, that I know. They were very close. It's almost surreal that this happened. I still can't believe it."_

_We were told that there was no foul play in this case and that the daughter will be placed under foster care for the time being._

Santana huffed. Why was she doing this to her self? Reading an article that was 2 years old, over and over again until her eyes eventually give out? _No matter how many times you read that, Santana, _she told herself, _it's not going to help you._

'_For the time being' turned out to be the longest while ever,_ she thought.

A certain boy's head appeared from behind her door and once again Santana's time alone was interrupted. ""Hey, did you hear? There's gonna be another girl in the house!"

Santana looked at the voice owner. She wasn't going to response, but then Puck opened the door wider and took a step in. She just had to. "Unless you have a more important, pressing news to tell me, _dickwad, _get out now," she growled, eyes still busy with her reading.

"What? Like that old newspaper could give you better stuff?" Puck motioned towards Santana's hands. "What is it with you and that newspaper anyway?"

Santana kept her cool and just like the last time, she placed the item back into the drawer. "Why didn't a bear maul you or something? Why couldn't your friends just leave you out there in the woods? That seemed to help _someone._"

"Don't go there."

"I'll go anywhere I want to," Santana said, challenging the boy. "Besides, you didn't seem to have a problem about it yourself."

Puck balled his fist. This is one tough girl. "I'm not going to apologize for that—"

"Don't want you to."

"You pushed me—"

Santana raised her left hand and stopped Puck from talking and scoffed. "Oh, please, Jungle Boy. I told you to leave and you didn't. I didn't invite you. You invaded my privacy— just like how you're invading it right now," she said. "_You_ pushed _me."_

Puck lifted both his arms in exasperation and growled. "Fine," he said. "You know what, I hope whoever it is that's going to be your roommate has a really tough skin and a better attitude. Then hopefully Will and Emma will kick your ass out and turn this room into just hers."

Santana shrugged. "Wouldn't want it any other way," she coldly said.

After a pregnant pause and a few steps to the door, Puck turned around. "Well, since you're so happy about getting a roommate, let me just tell you that she's coming in about an hour."

oOoOo

At exactly four o'clock, 20 hours after Emma broke the news to Will and Santana, Maria came knocking at the front door.

"Hi, Emma," Maria said when she saw the person opening the door. She gave Emma a light hug with one arm because there was a girl attached to her other hand. "This is Brittany," Maria told her, and the blonde-haired girl let go of Maria's hand.

"Hi, I'm Brittany," she said. She stretched her arm out to offer Emma a handshake.

Emma, a little startled but enamored by Brittany already, took her hand after taking a glance, making sure it was clean enough. "Hello, Brittany. I'm Emma," she smiled. "That's a really good handshake!"

Britanny beamed. "Thank you! My dad taught me that. He told me that first impressions are important," said Brittany with a scrunch on her face, looking all serious.

"Really?" Emma smiled. "Your dad was a very smart man, then."

"Yeah." Brittany's light blue eyes changed hues and if Emma had to describe it, it was the saddest shade of blue she had ever seen. But it didn't last long, to Emma's relief. Brittany put on a smile, though still with a hint of sadness behind it. "Yeah he was," she said. "He was."

oOoOo

"Um," Santana heard a voice on her door and immediately she knew it was her new roommate. She laid still and didn't bother turning around.

"Hi," the voice said again, this time she also heard a knock on her door. A little bit late, but at least _this_ intruder actually did it, unlike Puck. "I'm Brittany."

Santana stuck to her go-to plan A— which is to always ignore people first to see if they would just go away. It was a silly plan, really. Nobody ever went away. But Santana was a big believer of if-at-first-you-don't-succeed philosophy.

"Um," Brittany spoke again, this time with a whisper. "Are you sleeping? I'm sorry. But Emma told me I could go sleep in this room. She said I'm sharing a room with 'Santana'. You weren't there during dinner so I _hope_ you're Santana… otherwise I'm going to have to remember another name, and I'm not really good with names," she rambled.

Santana heard a way out. Brittany had asked her if she was sleeping, and that was exactly what she was going to pretend to do. She pulled her blanket over her head, but she left a little opening near her ear so that she could listen to her surroundings.

Brittany whispered again. "Hey, _Maybe Santana_?" She received no answer. "Maybe Santana… if Santana's really your name, I think it's really pretty. But if it's not then it's totally fine too." A pause. "So, uh, I really don't want to bother you, so if you can probably hear me in your sleep, I'm just letting you know that I'm coming into the room so you won't be, like, surprised or anything when you wake up."

Santana shuffled underneath the covers just to make her act convincing as Brittany carefully, quietly shut the door.

oOoOo

Around midnight Santana woke up because she had to use the bathroom. She rubbed as much sleep out of her eyes as possible and started to walk to the door. On her way, she saw a big bundle of… something… between the door and the closet but she didn't pay any attention to it. It wasn't after she got back from the bathroom that she realized that the bundle had blonde hair.

Santana hovered in front of that bundle and carefully touched it with the tip of her toes.

Nothing happened.

She did it again. This time, the bundle's outer layer, which was a pink coat, dropped onto the floor.

"Mom," the bundle deliriously whined, "I don't want to go to school."

Santana scrunched her forehead, confused. She poked harder with her toes and the blonde girl on the floor woke up with a start.

"Oh," Brittany said, smiling. "Hi, Maybe Santana." Her eyes were draped with sleep and she was ready to continue whatever dream she was having.

"Why the hell are you sleeping on the floor?" Santana rolled her eyes at herself. She couldn't believe that she actually asked, but she had. She was a bit disappointed at her curiosity, but she might as well get a complete answer. "There's a bed right there."

Brittany kept her eyes shut, but she answered anyway. "Didn't know if I was allowed. Didn't wanna wake you up," she mumbled. "Go back to sleep."

If the room had been brighter, and if her eyes were actually open, Brittany would've seen how Santana's cold eyes turned softer because of her answer. Only for a second, though. Her fences came back up, complete with barbed wire, as soon as Santana herself realized the brief shift in her heart. Brittany's half-conscious reply had affected her. She felt a little bit of guilt growing inside, but she dismissed it as much as she could. Not her fault Brittany was sleeping on the floor.

Well, OK, maybe it was.

Still standing up, Santana poked again with her foot. "Get up," she said. "The bed's yours."

Getting no response but a light snore from the newcomer, Santana gave in and got on her knees. She mulled over it for a moment, but she finally put a hand on Brittany's shoulder. She whispered, but made it sound as harsh as she could. "Wake up," she shook Brittany's shoulder. When Brittany's effort to open her eyes worked, Santana pointed at the never used bed next to hers. "You can sleep on that bed," she said.

Brittany sleepily looked at the bed, then at the girl in front of her. She smiled.

"You're pretty," said Brittany, before she crawled and climbed up her bed.

Maybe it was her guilt, or maybe because flattery actually worked, but Santana made sure Brittany was completely under the covers before she climbed into her own bed and went back to sleep. And just when she was about to drift back to sleep, she heard a drowsy voice from the other bed. "Goodnight, Maybe Santana."


	5. Crack

_A/N: not particularly happy about this chapter. sorry. :/_

_disclaimer: i don't own glee & its characters, unfortch._

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><p>Do you know the crackling sound of tempered glass breaking into a million of tiny pieces? Santana knew it well.<p>

Santana would hear it every time someone danced in front of her. She would hear it every time Will playfully, but wholeheartedly, sang a song to Emma or vice versa. She would hear it whenever Puck got a pat on the back from Will, or an extra piece of chicken from Emma. And back when she was still living with 30 other children, Santana would hear it whenever a kid from the group home got adopted, or was visited (and taken home, sometimes) by their relatives.

There was a time when Santana would think that it was just a weird thing everyone hears in their heads— like the sound of waves that you get from covering your ears with your hands. But she never could explain the violent heartbeat that would always, always come with it, until one day Santana heard the sound and felt the thud when she was about to cross a certain unfortunate intersection downtown. She knew right away what it was.

Heartbreak.

oOoOo

The morning after her and Brittany's first meeting, the feeling was particularly overwhelming. Santana, grudgingly, threw her covers open at 6.30 AM to the torturous sound of laughter coming from outside her walls. She could hear Emma, Will, and another voice that she couldn't recognize yet.

_Oh. _

She looked to her left and immediately drew a conclusion.

Brittany.

_This cannot be good_, she thought. Santana knew right away that her new roommate was trouble. Not only that it was _that_ early in the morning, but also because Santana used to be the reason why a house would light up. Hearing Brittany, and the rest of the house, laughing hysterically at whatever it was (it might as well be her) just reminded Santana that it was something she could never get back.

Santana sat up on her bed and let her feet hang freely from its edge. The laughter grew louder and louder. The cracking noise in her head suddenly thundered and the thud, thud, thud inside her chest just wouldn't stop.

Santana closed her eyes and gripped the sheets with both her hands. Somehow her breathing had become erratic and she had to calm herself down. _Breathe, _Santana told herself and concentrated on slowing down her heart rate.

She hated the feeling. That sound. The excruciating helplessness.

"Hi, roomie!"

A cheerful voice almost made her jump. Santana opened her eyes and the first thing she saw was the way Brittany's blonde hair seemed to reflect all the light coming in from the window. It was too pretty and Santana didn't like it even though she wasn't sure why it bothered her so much. She balled her fist. Brittany and her antics made her woke up too early, and she caused this mini-meltdown. She did _not_ just 'hey' her.

Lucky for Brittany, though, the raven-haired girl on the bed was still focusing on getting her breaths even. So Santana closed her eyes again and didn't answer. No snarky comments. She didn't have the energy. At least for now.

Brittany scrunched her eyebrows together. She took a few steps forward entering the room. "Are you okay?" she wanted to know, and when she didn't get an answer, Brittany asked again. "Do you need me to call Emma?"

Santana heard the question and shook her head without delay. It was bad enough that a girl that she hadn't even known for more than 2 minutes (last night's incident totally didn't count) saw her like this. She wasn't about to let anybody else in the house knew about it.

"Okay," she heard Brittany say and for a moment Santana was thankful that her new roommate was easier to handle than Puck. That thought flew right away, though, when she felt the bed space on her right dip.

"Sooooo," said the girl next to Santana. "I'm just gonna sit right here."

_What the—_

"You know," she said again. "In case you need me or something."

"I don't."

"You're saying it now, but you looked green. What if you puke the second I leave this room?"

"I won't," Santana said with her eyes still closed.

"But what if you puke?" Brittany repeated the question.

"I won't, OK? God. Just leave."

Brittany took a pause and Santana, internally, did a fist pump. She won.

Or so she thought.

"But," Brittany spoke again. "What if you puke and you still can't open your eyes? What if you slipped over your own puke and fell down? Think about how gross it is— falling into your own puke."

Santana opened her eyes and looked over to her right. She couldn't believe what she was hearing. Why would anybody put such disgusting images in her head?

Brittany, not backing down from her offer, met Santana's eyes and continued. "I mean," she said. "If you were a unicorn, then I guess it's okay. Unicorns throw up rainbows anyway. So that's not gross at all. So," a beat. "Are you?"

Santana scrunched her eyebrows together, unsure of what Brittany's asking her.

Brittany seemed to catch on the confusion and moved just a tad closer to Santana. "A unicorn," she looked at Santana straight in the eye.

Santana cocked an eyebrow. "You're serious?"

Brittany raised her hands. "I won't tell anyone if you are," she whispered as if they were having a secret conversation.

Santana felt her jaw drop. Speechless.

"No?" Santana shook her head, furrowing her brows. Who, or rather, _what_, was this girl?

"Aw, that sucks," Brittany said with a pout. "Would've been cool if you were."

Santana scoffed. "Yeah, well, it would be a lot more cooler if you could get out of my face, _roomie_."

Brittany tilts her head. "But I'm not in your face. I don't think I would fit."

"Ugh," Santana rolled her eyes. "It's just a saying."

"What does it mean?"

Santana huffed. "It means you're being too friendly right now. Invading my personal space. This," Santana moved her arms around, creating a sphere around her. "is my bubble. You, and everybody else, are not allowed in it. The bubble is just for me. Me. No one else, got it? I don't care about unicorns. Or rainbow puke or whatever. And for God's sake stop looking at me like that."

"Like what?"

"Like… I don't know. _That_," Santana pointed at Brittany's face.

Brittany shrugged. "I can't help it. I like looking at pretty things. Flowers, ribbons, clouds, rainbows, stars… and now you," she smiled saying it. Like she had just said something as clear as day. "I told you you're pretty."

"Well, stop it. I don't like it."

"Why _don't_ you want people telling you good things? I'm just being honest."

"Oh my God," Santana threw her arms up. "Why are you such a five-year-old? Stop talking! Leave me alone!"

Brittany smiled tight-lipped and lingered for a couple of seconds before she hopped off the bed. She walked all the way to the door and stopped right before she got to it.

"How are you feeling?" Brittany asked looking over her shoulder. Her left hand gripping the edge of the door.

"Huh?"

"Are you feeling better? You looked awful when I came in."

"Oh," Santana was taken aback, not expecting the question at all. And was she feeling better? She gave her answer a thought. No sound of cracking glass, no loud thuds from her heart, and definitely no breathing problems.

_Huh_, she thought. As it turned out, dealing with Brittany made her forget about all those things.

"I guess," she said. She wanted to add 'it's none of your business' at the end of her answer, but before she had the chance, Brittany was already doing little jumps in her spot.

"Awesome," Brittany said, grinning from ear to ear. "Emma wanted me to tell you that breakfast is ready."

Brittany disappeared into the hallway and Santana was left with a lot of things in her mind. Most of them were about how strange the other girl was, but one question nagged more than the other — was Brittany purposely distracting her?

Santana shook her head and dismissed the thought because less than 30 seconds later, she heard more laughter coming from the kitchen. And even though the crackling sound in her head was replaced with images of rainbow-colored vomit, which by the way did not look any better than normal puke, Santana still groaned from annoyance.

oOoOo

Breakfast was… strange.

Well, not really. It was mostly strange because _Brittany_ was weird. Or maybe she wasn't. Santana didn't know. Either it was all in Santana's head that Brittany is weird, or she had been _that_ closed off from the world and a family made out of salt 'n pepper shakers, Tabasco, and a maple syrup bottle was actually considered normal. Will and Emma looked like they were highly entertained by the Shaker Family Circus Theater so Santana didn't really know how to react to it. However, looking at Puck's stunned face throughout the whole thing, Santana started to think that she wasn't alone thinking that Brittany is_ definitely_ one of a kind.

She did tried her hardest to keep her cool and not laugh, though, when Tabasco attempted a somersault, tripped over Mr. Salt and emptied its content onto Puck's pancakes. It might've not been intentional, but damn the look on his face was priceless. Santana felt the urge of high-fiving Brittany, the Circus ringleader, but figured neither of them was ready for contact.

The table got silent. Will and Emma went too fast from laughing their heads off to being surprised over spilled Tabasco. Santana leaned back on her chair, ready to not be a part of whatever commotion that was going to happen. Ready to observe. Ready for Puck to blow up, really. She turned her head to look at the boy, then at the blonde girl staring at him looking like she was about to break into pieces.

Brittany kept saying she was sorry, over and over again that it got to the point where Santana thought her sorrys are even more annoying than anything else in the world. But then Brittany started crying, and Santana figured that she was wrong. Brittany _crying_ was the most annoying thing in the world. It wasn't until Brittany started to sob, "please don't kick me out. Please," that Santana felt her heartstrings tug. Of course, if you had asked her, she wouldn't have admitted it.

Finally aware of what was going on, Will got up from his seat and told Puck that he would make him another batch of pancakes. Emma got herself busy calming Brittany down, telling her she wasn't going to kick Brittany out, and Puck, to his credit and however red his ears had gotten, didn't say a word. He calmly, silently, got back to eating his pancakes. Piece by piece, even the part that had hot sauce on it. Midway, Puck stopped eating and looked at Brittany.

Unexpectedly, Puck grinned. "I've always wanted to try pancakes with hot sauce," he said to the blonde.

Santana, Will, Emma and Brittany watched him devour his whole plate (including the new one that Will made him) and drank his milk (in fact, he drank _three_ full glasses of milk because his tongue felt like it was burning) with confusion on their faces. Santana especially. This was too weird. The whole house was weird and bipolar.

oOoOo

"She just lost both of her parents."

Santana looked to her left, where Puck was sitting, holding the TV remote. Why he suddenly seemed to think that she would be interested in what he was going to say, she didn't know. But she got to admit, she was a little bit curious of what he knew.

"There was a fire and she was the only survivor," Puck said again, his eyes fixed on the TV. "Will told me they couldn't find anyone to take care of her. Brittany's whole family lives somewhere in Europe."

Santana turned her head back around and looked at the TV, even though she couldn't pay it any attention. The pictures on screen became just that. Pictures. Puck's occasional blurbs became too interesting to pass up.

"Why are you even telling me this?" Santana asked with false annoyance.

Puck looked at her and scoffed. "Because, _Santana_," he mockingly emphasized on her name. "I don't want you to run her away. This is practically all she got. All _I_ got. And even though you're too freaking proud to admit it, it's all _you_ got."

Santana rolled her eyes. "Don't pretend you know me. You don't."

"Listen. You and me, we probably did something bad that we deserved what we're getting now. I mean, we're not exactly angels," Puck continued. He scratched an itch on his arm that wasn't really there. "But you can tell she's not like us. Look at her," Puck jerked his neck.

Santana turned her head towards the kitchen and watched Emma and Brittany clean up. She wasn't at all surprised when she saw Brittany was already all smiles and laughter despite the sobbing mess she was at the table earlier. But judging from the fact that the crackling noise was back, although not as overbearing as this morning, Santana was sure of one thing: she was jealous of her new roommate.

oOoOo

During dinner, Santana couldn't help but watch Brittany. What Puck had said that afternoon kept repeating in her head. _She's not like us_.

_That seems accurate enough_, Santana thought. Brittany was seriously super… what's the word? Bright? Yeah. She was super bright. Not bright I'm-super-intelligent-and-witty kind of bright, but just… bright. Luminous. If she were a color, Brittany would be yellow. _I'd probably be black. Puck's probably brown._

Emma, Wiill, and Puck took turns asking Brittany questions over chicken and rice, trying to get some insights about the young girl. Her favorite color ("pink"), her favorite animals ("dolphins, cats, and unicorns"), her favorite TV shows ("One Tree Hill, and anything on Animal Planet"). Puck asked her what her favorite subject was and gave her a high-five when Brittany answered with a shy grin, "recess."

After a few questions, the room became too quiet. Santana, who was busy with her food, looked up to see all eyes on her. As it turned out, it was her turn to ask a question.

She glared at everyone around the table and held one hand up. "Never said I was playing," she growled.

Emma took over the conversation almost instantly. The woman asked Brittany whether or not she had a best friend at school and from the corner of her eye, Santana could see the other girl shaking her head.

"No," Brittany said. "My, uh…" she stuttered. Her hand running through her hair. "My dad was my best friend," she said.

Santana rolled her eyes. _Great,_ she thought. _Here we go again._

Santana fully expected Brittany to cry again, just like this morning. But the tears and the ugly sobbing never came and it baffled Santana. She looked up from her plate to see Brittany smiling to Emma, who was already saying how sorry she was to bring it up.

"It's alright," Brittany said. "It's weird to use past tense when I talk about them, but guess I have to get used to it anyway, right?"

Will smiled. "Take your time, Brittany," he gave Brittany a loving pat on her shoulder. He wiped his mouth with a napkin and made a loud clap with his hands. "Who's ready for ice cream?"

Brittany beamed. "I'll get it," she said as Emma, who had every intention to keep Brittany from messing up her neatly organized freezer up from her chair, followed her.

Will and Puck got up to collect dirty plates, including Santana's, and walked together to the kitchen talking about some football game score.

Santana stayed seated there on her chair. Alone in the dining room. Listening to the clinks and clanks and the faraway warmth of the happy 'family' in the kitchen that she wasn't part of. And there they were once more.

That stupid noise inside her head.

That fucking banging from inside her chest.


	6. Words

_A/N: You know what? I think I need reviews... It's so hard to figure out a story without knowing what people like and don't like._

_anyway. hope you enjoy this one. :)_

_Disclaimer: Nothing about Glee is mine. Boo._

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><p>It had been almost two weeks since her first meeting with Brittany and Santana still didn't know what to think about her new roommate.<p>

Based on that little story that Puck had told her, and a little more investigating (a.k.a. eaves dropping to Will and Emma's conversation), Brittany had every right to be sad. To throw around vases. Picture frames, maybe. Or act slightly bitter. Perhaps not as rude as herself— but she could've at least thrown snarky one liners here and there. But no. None of that was happening.

Brittany never tried to push her buttons like Puck did. For someone who never seemed to have a problem to mesh well with other people, she gave Santana plenty of space. Most of the time, Brittany seemed to leave Santana in her own 'bubble', just like what she had asked her to do. The rest of the time, though, it felt like Brittany was trying to poke her bubble somehow. But Santana couldn't even begin to explain how. It just felt like she was.

For example, She had told Brittany that as long as she stayed in her part of the room, she wouldn't beat her up. So, one day, Brittany took advantage of that agreement and decided that her part of the room would be a dance studio (though she looked like she was just jumping around to the music playing through her earphones and not really dancing).

Santana knew it could just be in her imagination that Brittany was taunting her. Like she was showing off how bizarrely happy she was and that Santana should be like her too. But Santana ended up leaving the room anyway, purposely bumping into Brittany's shoulder on her way out.

Santana thought that maybe Brittany was just a sociopath in the making. All very bright, happy and bubbly on the outside, but sneakily plan to kill everyone when they weren't looking. For several nights in a row, Santana would make sure that Brittany fell asleep before she finally closed her eyes. But then each morning she would get up to find an empty, made up bed and she realized that if Brittany was a crazy killer on the loose, she would've killed her when she had the chance.

Sometimes both Brittany and Santana would be in the kitchen helping Emma out, but while one would be all cheery, casually joking around with the older woman, the other one would keep herself to, well, herself. Sometimes Santana would make a show out of her eye rolls, or even loudly sigh just to let the other two people know that she was irritated. She couldn't help it, though. It was easier to stay that way than to remember how to laugh. It suffocated her, really. But she wasn't about to admit it to anyone. And every time that happened, Santana couldn't help but think that God, or whoever was running this universe, had a favorite, and it sure wasn't her.

oOoOo

So far, Brittany had been enjoying her time tremendously. Living with the Schuesters was easy if you could just follow each and every single request that Emma had: don't sit on things you weren't supposed to sit on, don't open drawers unless you really need to, don't clean messes unless you were the one who caused it. It really didn't take long for her to figure out that the redhead had cleaning and organizational issues, but Brittany paid no mind to it. Brittany was sort of used to it, anyway.

"_You take things, you put them back." _Brittany heard her mom's voice in her head and chuckled. _She's always reminding me even when she's not here._

"—ways here," someone's muffled voice was heard and Brittany's eyes widened. _Mom? _

She quickly turned her head to the staircase to catch the owner of the voice. For a second she thought it was her mom, but when she found out it was just Santana, Brittany shook her head as if she was getting rid of something from her head.

"Oh, it's just you," Brittany said, sounding more disappointed than she had intended.

Santana stopped on the bottom stair, raising an eyebrow.

"Sorry," Brittany added, sporting an apologetic grin on her face. "I didn't mean to sound like that."

Santana scoffed and rolled her eyes. "Whatever."

Santana made her way to the refrigerator to get the orange juice and Brittany watched her carefully from where she was sitting. She kept an eye at Santana as she grabbed a glass from the cupboard, opened the juice cap and poured half full. There was something about the darker girl that she couldn't quite make out, and that bothered her.

No, wait. That wasn't the right word.

She wasn't bothered. She was just… curious, for lack of a better word, about Santana.

So far, Brittany had everyone figured out. Emma with her cleaning obsession and how thoroughly polishing any kind of surface appeared to relief her obsessive thoughts— although only temporarily. Will, with his crazy eyes and smile, who seemed to get tremendous amount of joy whenever he thought he had succeeded in encouraging his 'kids' toward their goals. The other day when he told Puck that he was sure to be drafted into NFL someday? It wasn't just Puck that had a proud smile on his face.

Speaking of Puck, Brittany liked him. Nothing romantic, of course. It's just that Puck, even if he could be _such_ a boy sometimes with his video games and post ball game stench, impressed her because he absolutely cared about everybody in the house. Maybe even a little bit about Santana.

She thought Puck was kind of like a pineapple. Rough on the outside, and kind of sweet on the inside. Plus, Puck just got a haircut and now the top of his head looked like the top of the fruit.

And then there was Santana.

Santana, Santana, Santana.

She was sort of like a puzzle with a missing piece or two. Maybe you misplaced them, maybe you accidentally threw them away. Point is, she was something you could never solve. When you think you're about to finish it, you find a hole in the middle. But Brittany was not and will not be a quitter.

"Were you saying something coming down the stairs?" Asked Brittany after a while. She was sure she heard a voice from behind her when she was thinking about her mom.

Santana was just about to finish her second helping of orange juice when she heard the question. Her hand (and glass) stopped halfway. "Why?" She furrowed her eyebrows. What a weird way to poke a bubble.

"Because," Brittany said. "Because I thought you were a ghost."

Santana said nothing. She put the juice carton back into the refrigerator and walked to the kitchen sink to start washing the glass that she used.

"Don't laugh," Brittany said timidly.

Santana squished the sponge so it would make bubbles. Brittany is _something_, alright. "Not laughing," said Santana, uninterestedly, without looking at her questioner.

But see? _Santana wasn't that bad_, Brittany thought. She had a faint memory (or maybe it was a dream) of Santana helping her into bed and pulled the covers all the way up to her neck. And even though she could be really scary sometimes, Santana never laughed at Brittany's random comments. She'd raise an eyebrow or make a confused face, but never laugh. Exactly like right now.

Brittany looked up. "I guess not," she huffed, but smiled at the end of it. She kept her eyes on Santana and continued watching. She felt like a creeper at first, but her curiosity needed satisfying. Puck had told her to stay away from Santana because according to him, "Santana is evil and she _will_ cut you alive." But Brittany knew Puck didn't mean it. He was just looking out for her. Obviously he was bitter about something, but whatever happened between him and Santana didn't concern her.

Just because they weren't getting along, it didn't mean she was going to keep her distance. In fact, Brittany was dying to get closer to Santana. They were roommates after all. Weren't roommates supposed to have some sort of an unbreakable bond? Have whispered, giggly conversations after the lights were out? Plus, it had been a while since Brittany last had a girl talk. Now that her mom was gone, it would be nice to have someone else to talk to. It would be even nicer if it weren't someone who would just deflect and spray disinfectants on the furniture instead.

Santana put her glass down on the rack after rinsing it clean and turned on her heels. She walked right past Brittany, who was still shamelessly watching her, straight to the door.

"Where are you going?" Asked Brittany.

Santana slipped into her shoes, one by one. "None of your business."

"But you didn't answer my question yet."

"And I should because…?" Santana asked as she kneeled down. One of her shoelaces was undone.

"D'uh," Brittany stood up and walked closer to the other girl. "Because I need to know."

Santana eyed the blonde girl up and down before she finally stood up, finished with her laces. "Well, aren't you feeling a little bit entitled?" Santana finally spoke.

Brittany stayed quiet because she didn't really know what that meant. Besides, judging from the look on Santana's face, which was not a pleasant one, not saying anything seemed to be the right thing to do.

"If you must know, _Brittany,"_ Santana put an emphasis on the other girl's name to let her know how annoyed she was. "Yes, I did say something. I said, 'you're always here."

"Oh," Brittany nodded. It made sense. "OK."

Santana faked a pout. "Aren't you gonna ask me why I said it?"

Brittany beamed. This was a breakthrough! Santana was talking to her— no! Even more than that, Santana was _asking_ her to keep talking!

"Oh! Yeah, sure," Brittany smiled wide. Her blue eyes shone brightly and Santana had to tell herself that they were real and not colored glass marbles. "Why did you say it?"

And just like that, Santana switched from being mesmerized by Brittany's eyes to putting on her special face. The angry face with angry eyes that told Brittany that it was not a good thing to be messing with Santana at that moment.

Brittany took a step back. She didn't expect her speaking opponent would do a 180˚ that fast.

"Because, _Brittany,_" Santana told her menacingly as she took a step forward. Then another. "You're _always _here."Then another. And with the iciest tone Brittany had ever heard she told her, "and I can't stand you."

oOoOo

Santana stopped in her tracks and looked over her shoulder. She knew it. She had been hearing footsteps behind her since God knows when and she was right. There _was_ someone following her. But instead of a creepy guy, or some smelly homeless like she had nervously imagined, it was a girl. Blonde hair, blue eyes, and a whole lot of guts, if you asked her.

Brittany had tried to be discreet— which shouldn't be hard at all because she had a lot of practice. She used to sneak down to the living room at night and watched cartoons (muted, of course) after her parents were fast asleep. So making sure she wasn't making a noise, while walking behind Santana, was easy. The hardest part was actually controlling her legs so that they would walk slower that she wouldn't catch up with Santana.

But it's too late. Santana had noticed her presence. Immediately she halted when their eyes met, and her left foot stopped midair. She gave Santana an awkward grin that made Santana roll her eyes and turn on her heels. Brittany sighed and looked at her feet, scolding them both in her head. Why must they be longer than Santana's? Why couldn't they be just as long as hers? Silly legs.

"Stop following me," Santana said looking over her shoulder.

"I'm not following you," Brittany insisted. Technically, it was true. She wasn't. She was simply the second person to walk out of the front door.

"Yeah," Santana scoffed. "And I'm the Queen of England."

Brittany's eyes went wide. "You are? Wait. You can't be. I've seen her pictures. She's old. And she has white hair. Your hair's black and pret—"

Santana stopped in her tracks for the second time in the last three minutes. She did a pivot and faced Brittany. "Oh my God, shut up! Go away!" she shouted. "Why are you following me, anyway?"

Brittany stood her ground. "I'm not!"

"Oh yeah?" Santana crossed her arms and lifted her chin. "So why are you here, huh? Do you have a death wish or something?" Santana icily asked.

"No," Brittany whispered, hands playing with the hem of her T-shirt. "Not really."

"Poor little Brittany. _So _lost without her mommy and daddy," Santana cut her off.

Brittany looked up. "Why are you being so mean?"

"Why am I being so mean?" Santana mockingly laughed and repeated as she took a few steps closer to the other girl. "Why am I being so mean?"

_Because you're a fucking sunshine when I can't even remember how to laugh anymore. That's why._

"Because I _just_ told you that I can't stand you and yet here you are, creeping up on me like some lost puppy. But you know what?" Santana rested both her hands on her hips. "Whatever. If you're so lost, if you need your _mommy_ that bad, go stand at a street corner or something. Maybe we'll get lucky and someone would take you away and be your new parents."

Brittany frowned. What Santana said hurt. Not to mention ridiculous. She didn't want a new mom or dad. Why would she? It wouldn't be the same. If someone were to be her new parents, they would have to learn everything about her. From zero. And that would take a really long time.

First of all, they would have to remember her birthday, which never seemed to fall on the same day. This year it was on a Wednesday. The year before that, it fell on a Tuesday. So confusing. Why couldn't they just call it a 'birth_date_' instead? It was always the same date anyway.

Second of all, they would have to learn about all the other things. Like the bracelet around her wrist and the charms that were hanging onto it. Ballet shoes, for the first ballet recital that Brittany was part of. Dolphins, for when her parents took her to Sea World. A star, for the first time ever watching Peter Pan. A bell, for when her mom dropped her off on the first day of grade school.

Third of all, if Brittany were to list every single thing to learn about her, there would be a "millionth of all". It would be easier if she could just have her old mom back instead of getting a new one. Not that it was possible.

"I don't want a new mom," Brittany whispered.

"Yeah, well you look like you need one," Santana countered back and turned around again, ready to continue her walk to the park. A victory smirk appeared on her face when she heard a faint "OK" from behind her and several footsteps following the word. But it slowly disappeared when she couldn't hear them anymore.

Santana looked over her shoulder. She found nothing.

Brittany was gone.

"Brittany?" Santana called and listened hard for any type of answer.

She felt an imaginary cold sweat running down her temple and Santana covered her face with both her hands.

Was it too much? Was it too mean? Why was it bothering her so much that Brittany wasn't there anymore?

Santana let out a loud groan.

"Brittany!" She tried again. This time as loud as she could from where she was standing, earning good stares from passersby. If she could just, maybe, possibly, figure out which direction Brittany went to…

Still no answer.

oOoOo

Santana was exhausted. She had been going in and out of stores, bumping on people, asking them if they had seen a blonde girl with blue eyes wearing a pair of denim shorts and a pink T-shirt. She had been reading their faces carefully, in case one of them wasn't telling the truth. She had paid extra attention to suspicious vehicles like windowless vans. She actually got chased away by several storeowners for snooping around their delivery vans.

All that for nothing. Brittany was still missing.

So many thoughts going on in Santana's head as she ran up and down the streets. Was she out of line? It wasn't that Santana thought Brittany was dim enough to actually do it, but what if Brittany really took it to heart and stood on a street corner? What if Brittany was upset and someone tricked her into coming with them and not come back? Like, kidnap her or something?

Santana held on to a street lamp and tried to catch her breath. But no matter what she did, she couldn't calm down the turmoil that was happening inside her head. So she slumped down and sat on the curb. She was a smart girl. She watched the news. She knew what kidnappers do to kids. If something happened to Brittany, she most definitely didn't want to be the one who wished it upon her.

_This isn't happening,_ she repeated over and over again in her head. _This isn't happening. What if I did it again?_

Santana assessed all the scenarios in her head. If she hadn't turned her back so fast, she would've seen where Brittany was going. If she had said something nicer, not as extreme, or maybe just stayed quiet, Brittany wouldn't have walked away. She could've just ignored her and Brittany would've kept following her and the past 35 minutes wouldn't have happened and _oh my God,_ she thought. _Am I crying?_

She was. And for a while she held her breath and fought the tears. _Crying won't help you find Brittany, stupid, _she thought. But neither did fighting the tears. And to be honest, at that moment, sitting helplessly on the curbside, crying felt really good. Santana was tired, frustrated, and felt guilty for a possible news report about a found dead body in the woods coming out in a few days.

So she just let go. Silent tears became sobs and it wasn't long before her sleeves were wet from wiping her eyes and face. She didn't care that people were staring. Some of them even stopped to ask her questions but gladly went on their ways when all she did was growl at them, telling them to leave her alone.

A hand landed on her shoulder and shook it. "Santana?"

Santana looked to her side but the tears in her eyes made it hard for her to see. Everything was a blur. But she could make out the blonde hair, and she was pretty sure she knew that voice.

"Brittany?" She wiped her eyes with a dry patch of her shirt.

"Why are you crying?" Brittany asked, not really sure why the usually tough girl was a sobbing mess. But she dropped down and sat next to Santana anyway. "Do you… would you like some of my ice cream?" She offered. "I didn't touch the other side ye—"

Santana lunged at her, interrupting Brittany of what she was going to say. She was surprised. She really hadn't expected Santana to be clinging on her like her life depended on her. After all, this was the girl who just told her to go stand on a street corner to find a new mom.

"Where did you go? I thought," Santana tried her best to talk, even though her sobbing was making it really hard for her. "I thought something happened to you and I didn't see where you were going so I looked for you everywhere but you were nowhere. What if someone kidnapped you?"

Brittany frowned. "Did you take a left or right from where we were fighting?"

"Right?" Santana whimpered. She rested her chin on Brittany's shoulder.

"Silly," Brittany said softly. She rubbed Santana's back up and down, trying to soothe her crying. "Don't you know you're supposed to go left when you're confused? Like a maze?"

_Of course_, Santana mentally kicked herself for not thinking the same way as Brittany. She should've known.

"I went to get ice cream," Brittany added.

"The parlor?"

"Yeah. That was where I was going originally." Brittany chuckled. "Told you I wasn't following you," she gave Santana a squeeze and Santana finally pulled away.

"You're here," Santana stated with disbelief and traces of sobs in her voice. "I thought you were dead."

Brittany shook her head. Her ice cream was starting to melt down her wrist, but Brittany didn't care. Santana looked like she was going to turn into goo and she was more important than some cold, creamy treat. So she hugged Santana one more time, tighter this time.

"I'm here," said Brittany and it was all Santana needed to hear.

oOoOo

"_I don't know why you had to hit him, Santana."_

"_Mom," Santana protested from her backseat. "I told you! He pushed me first!"_

_Ines threw her daughter a sharp look through the rearview mirror and shook her head. "That doesn't mean you should hit back."_

"_So I should've just stayed quiet?"_

"_Exactly."_

"_That's bullshit."_

"_Santana!" Ines' eyes widened at what she just heard. "Who taught you that word!"_

_Santana mumbled something that sounded like "I don't know," and crossed her arms. She looked outside her window. Boy, it was raining pretty hard._

"_You can't use that word ever again, you hear me?" Ines turned the wiper dial one speed faster._

"_What?" Santana protested again. "But you use it. Dad uses it. Everybody uses it!"_

"_That doesn't mean you can," Ines told her. "Do you know how embarrassed I was to be called to your principal's office? And to learn that you've hit one of your classmates?"_

"_I told you, he freaking pushed me!"_

"_Santana!" Ines yelled at her daughter. She was frustrated. Santana was being stubborn and the rain was making it really hard to drive. "I'm not going tolerate that tone, young lady. I bet none of your friends talk this way."_

"_Not true," Santana yelled back. "Sarah's mom lets her do whatever she wants!"_

"_Well, I'm not Sarah's mom. I'm your mom! And you're grounded!"_

"_What?"_

"_You heard me," said Ines. "For a week," she added, looking at Santana's eyes through the rearview mirror. She really wanted the conversation to end. The rain was turning into a downpour. A storm, even, and it was really hard to see anything. The best she could do was to make out shapes in front of her and guess what they were._

_They got to an intersection and the lights were off. No red, no yellow, no green. Ines cursed herself. She should've made that visit to the principal's office short. She shouldn't have fought what the principal was saying— telling him that Santana only did it for self-defense. It had cost her 30 minutes of lecture from the bald-headed educator and now, a whole lot of trouble driving through the rain._

_Ines clutched the golden cross hanging on her neck. She prayed. She prayed for the storm to stop, she prayed for some sort of guidance to get them home, but most of all, she prayed for Santana. _Dear Lord_, she prayed, _keep my daughter safe.

"_That's so unfair!" Santana kicked the back of her mom's seat. And again and again and again. "Why can't you be like Sarah's mom?" _

"_Santana!" Ines yelled. "Stop it! Don't make me add another week to your punishment." She really needed to focus on the road. She had looked left and right several times now and it seemed like it was safe for her to continue moving._

"_I hate you!" Santana yelled back with all her might. "I wish you weren't my mom!"_

_There were red and blue lights swirling in the distance when Santana opened her eyes, also a terrible headache, an ache on her arm, and a couple of women in white uniform hauling her in what apparently felt like a moving bed._

"_Sweetie? Can you tell me your name?" One of them asked._

_Santana blinked her eyes several times. "Santana."_

"_OK, Santana, that's good," the other one took over. "We're going to take you to a hospital, OK? Everything's going to be alright. I need you to relax."_

_Santana's eyes went wide open. "The hospital?" She asked. "Where's my mom? Where is she?"_

_Santana didn't get an answer. Or maybe she did, from the way the two women looked at each other, then at her._

"_Everything's going to be alright, sweetie," answered the one on the left as she opened the doors to the ambulance. "Everything's going to be alright."_

_Santana nodded with all the energy she had left. She wanted to believe what they said. But when she saw another paramedic covered the face of a body on a gurney from the corner of her eyes, she knew they were lying._

_But she wanted to believe so much._


	7. Magic

_A/N:_

_Dear readers,_

_You guys are awesome. Thank you so much for the Favorites & Alerts. Also for the reviews, be it public or through PM._

_Hope this chapter doesn't disappoint. Or at least not that much. :)_

_P.S. There is another A/N at the bottom of this chapter._

* * *

><p>After her embarrassing crying fit several weeks ago, Santana had tried to keep her distance from Brittany. But for some strange, unknown reason, she couldn't. In fact, in addition to sharing a room, they actually exchanged words to each other. Not that plenty (mostly it was Brittany who did all the talking), but enough to call it mini conversations. It was like Brittany was a magnet, and Santana was the cold hard metal.<p>

Maybe it was just some sort of a prolonged response of relief, sometimes Santana pondered. She _was _very glad when her words didn't come true— when Brittany, just went to get ice cream instead of being taken away by some lunatic— unlike that wretched, fateful day when she wished away her mother.

So she thought it was just temporary. That one day she would wake up and spit venomous words to Brittany again, just like how she would to anyone else. But mornings, days, and weeks passed by, and it had gotten harder to shake Brittany off her side. It had also gotten more and more impossible for her to find the willpower to once again be cruel to her roommate.

Brittany, on the other hand, was ballooning with determination. But unlike Santana who was trying to gather up the energy to push Brittany away, Brittany was intent on befriending Santana.

She still gave Santana her space, but knowing that she was probably the first one to see the other girl looking so helpless in a long while, she was set on becoming the first person to see the rest of the real Santana.

Her tokens of victory, so far, include 1) an answer from Santana when she asked her where she had been going to every afternoon (the park), 2) A 'goodnight' every night and a 'good morning' every morning, or a variation of those two phrases, 3) actual smiles, and 4) a chuckle from the day when Brittany decided to turn her part of the room into a dance floor and frolicked around like a crazy disco duck.

Tiny victories, yes. But still victories.

And today she was going to try and win some more.

"Hey," Brittany popped into the room. As usual, she had stayed longer downstairs and kept Emma company after breakfast as the homemaker cleaned surfaces that didn't need cleaning before going back up to her and Santana's room.

"Watcha doin'," Brittany asked as she walked in. Then she saw the yellowing newspaper on Santana's hands and mouthed an "oh."

She didn't know (yet) why Santana had been reading the same old newspaper more times than she had read the new ones, but she understood Santana needed to. Not a lot of people knew this, but she was a smart girl. She already knew that whatever story was written in the newspaper, it probably had something to do with Santana's past.

_She would tell me in her own time,_ Brittany thought. But if that time never comes, Brittany was fine with that too.

"Nothing," said Santana before she neatly folded the old newspaper and put it back into the drawer. She watched as Brittany sat down on her bed and swung her feet rhythmically.

"It's OK if you want to keep reading it," Brittany told Santana. "It looks important, so I won't bother you. I'll be as quiet as a mouse."

"No, it's fine," said Santana. "I'm going out in a bit, anyway."

"Where to?" Brittany asked.

Santana shrugged and got off her bed. She took a baseball cap from the coat hanger behind the door and put it on. "The park."

"Again?"

Santana raised an eyebrow. "Yeah, again," she said. "Got a problem with that?"

The blonde girl shrugged. "Not really. It's just that you go there every day. And that's all you do. You read that old newspaper, then you go to the park."

"Look. Just because I _let_ you see me cry, doesn't mean you can go all Dear Abby on me. Whatever happened to not poking my bubble?" Santana turned around to face Brittany.

"Sorry," Brittany stared at her still swinging feet. "Didn't mean to," she paused.

Santana was turning the doorknob when she heard Brittany call her name.

"What now?" Santana threw her hands in the air, exasperated.

With a head tilt, Brittany asked. "Who's Abby?"

oOoOo

A breeze gently brushed her face as Santana sat under the tree and brought her another memory, and yet another crack in her heart.

_Funny_, she thought as she took a deep breath. _Never knew happy things were supposed to bring you so close to tears._

"You're so quiet," a voice from her left said and Santana was startled. She had forgotten that she told Brittany that she could come with her to the park. In all honesty, she didn't think that Brittany actually took it as an invitation to join her sitting under the tree. She thought they would've gone their separate ways when they got to the park. And yet, there they were, sitting juxtaposed with each other under a big Linden tree. _Her _tree. And she really didn't mind it as much as she thought she would.

Santana made a mental note to re-learn how to say "no" to her roommate— and maybe work on distracting herself from Brittany's pout, because goddammit, it was powerful.

Santana kept her gaze on the playground in the distance and shrugged. "I like quiet," she told Brittany.

"Why?" Brittany made a face. "You don't have to answer if I'm poking your bubble. Or being Abby again— whoever Abby is."

"You are," Santana quickly said. But she added a thin smile at the end so that Brittany wouldn't feel too bad. She didn't want her to disappear again like last time.

"I don't like quiet," said Brittany after a pregnant pause. She figured if Santana wasn't going to talk, she was OK with listening.

Santana scoffed. "Yeah, that was an understatement."

"I don't like quiet because it hurts," Brittany continued and Santana froze. Brittany's voice was calm, but there was intensity in the tone that Santana had never thought she would hear from Brittany. Ever.

Santana realized that she was afraid of that tone, and that she wasn't ready for _this_ Brittany. It was _her_ job to be sad, and not Brittany's.

"When it's not loud outside, it's super loud in here," Brittany put a finger on her temple and scrunched her nose. She tried to smile at the same time, but if Santana hadn't have lost her ability to talk at that moment, she would've told Brittany to stop it because she looked like she was going to cry.

"Sometimes I feel my head's like a radio with missing buttons. I can't turn it off. Can't turn it down either. And I keep hearing them."

Santana cleared her throat. "Them?"

"My mom," Brittany pulled a pinch of grass and scattered it back onto the ground. "And my dad, too. That's why I try to drown the noises out by being… well you know how I am."

"You miss them?"

"All the time," Brittany answered. She looked up and met Santana's eyes. "Don't you?"

"I guess," Santana let out long sigh. "But I shouldn't."

"Why? I actually kind of like missing them."

"You _just_ told me that it hurts," Santana asked back. Deflecting.

"It does," Brittany nodded her head slowly. She understood Santana's code for _"No, Brittany. Not gonna happen." _

Brittany brushed off some grass from her jeans. "So much. But in a way it's kind of awesome because it just tells you," Brittany paused and gave her words a thought. "That you were loved."

Santana gave her a smile. "For a second there I thought you were going to give me a speech about keeping them alive in your heart and all that bullcrap."

"Oh, no. I hate when people tell me that," Brittany shook her head. "I mean, it's nice and all, but people use that line so much that you just know they're saying it just because they can. And because they couldn't tell you something that came straight from their hearts. Why can't they say something like, 'don't worry, Brittany. They'll turn into unicorns that only you can see'? I mean, it's not true, but at least it's different and it would've made me smile just because it's original. Plus, unicorns."

Santana snorted. "You really love unicorns, don't you?"

"Everybody does. They're magic."

"They're not real though."

"And that bothers you?"

Santana shrugged. "I'm just saying, there's no such thing as magic."

"You don't believe in magic?" Brittany scooted over and changed her sitting position that she was now facing Santana fully.

"Card tricks and rabbits jumping out of hats? Nope."

"Santa?"

"Since I was five I already knew he was just a guy in a fat suit. And the ones down at the mall just want kids to sit on their laps. Creepy assholes."

"Superman."

"A guy in a ridiculously tight suit," Santana shrugged. "And a lame pair of glasses as a disguise. I mean, you'd think they'd come up with a better, less recognizable disguise. A fake mustache would've been better."

"What about Leprechauns?"

"Sound as unappealing as the letters in their name."

"Fairy tales."

"Are just tales and not true."

"I like fairy tales."

"You're allowed to."

"Pure love."

"Doesn't exist. Love happens because of reasons and necessity."

"What about love between a newborn and their mom?"

"Baby needs milk, mom needs a sense of ownership," Santana shrugged again.

Brittany sighed. "You really don't believe any of those stuff? You're a septic?"

"Skeptic, Britt. And no, I don't," Santana told her honestly. "Why are you so obsessed with this?"

"Because, Santana," Brittany ran her fingers through her blonde hair. Who knew talking to Santana could be this frustrating?

"If you don't believe in magic, if you don't believe in love, fairy tales or even the possibility of those things," Brittany looked at the girl in front of her straight in the eyes. "You'll never ever find it."

oOoOo

Santana saved a cat that afternoon.

Well, technically, _they _saved a cat. After all, Brittany was the one who convinced Santana to save it.

They were walking back from the park when they saw the kitten in distress. Brittany and her "Pouting Powers" (or so Puck had been calling it) managed to get Santana to take off her sandals and climbed up the tree. As it turned out, Santana had had a lot of practice. During one of the rare occasions when she would open up about her past (just a little bit. Not that much) to Brittany, she mentioned having a lot of cousins, and almost all of them were boys. Climbing trees was a well-honed skill for her and she was pretty badass at it.

"That was awesome! Yay!" Brittany clapped her hands when Santana and the kitten came down from the tree. She impatiently scooped the kitten from its rescuer's hands and brought it close to her heart.

Santana raised an eyebrow at the kitten. She could've sworn that it was _not_ that friendly when she was holding it. In fact, she didn't need to swear. She got scratch marks all over her arms to prove it. Then again, she understood why. There was literally _nobody_ Brittany couldn't win over.

"Do you think we can bring him home?" Brittany asked. "He can be ours."

"I don't think Will and Emma would let us do that, Britt."

"But who's gonna take care of him now?"

"We can't, Britt."

"But… look at him," Brittany stroked the kitten's neck. "He's so cute. And I don't see his mommy anywhere. Do you?"

Santana looked to her left, then to her right. Brittany was right. There was no sign of its mom.

"He's all alone, Santana." The kitten meowed and Brittany kissed the top of its head. "He's all alone just like us before we came to the house."

Santana sighed. "Brittany, we don't even know how to take care of it. I mean, where is he going to sleep?"

"The basement."

"We still need a bed. He can't sleep on the floor."

"I'll stuff a shoebox with my old t-shirt."

"What are we going to feed him?"

"I got money for a special kind of milk that we can get from the pet store."

"Brittany," Santana huffed. She hated the fact that once Brittany was set on doing something, there was no going back. _She's no quitter, that's for sure._

"Santana," Brittany grinned. She knew Santana was very close to giving in.

The girl with the raven hair took a deep breath before she shook her head. She knew she was going to regret this.

"Fine," said Santana, and Brittany gave her a bone-crushing hug. "But we split the cost of that special milk you mentioned about."

_Will and Emma are going to flip_, Santana worried. But then she imagined their faces freaking out and smiled.

_Best. Idea. Ever._

oOoOo

"Santana," whispered Brittany in the darkness. It had been at least a couple of hours since Emma turned off the lights but Brittany still couldn't keep her eyes shut.

"Santana," she tried again. No luck though. The girl she was calling for didn't wake up.

So Brittany sat up on her bed. She weighed her extra pillow in her hands and thought, _what the heck. _With a swift motion, the pillow landed on the floor— after bouncing on Santana's uncovered head.

"What the hell?" Santana turned around to face the perpetrator with her eyes still half-closed. "Brittany? What time is it?"

Brittany chuckled. "I'm sorry?" she offered, but even in the darkness Santana could a glint of mischief in her blue eyes.

"Britt," Santana sighed. Brittany was lucky Santana had a soft spot for her. If she was still living in the group home and someone threw a pillow at her, Santana would've made sure they would never be able to sleep soundly at night ever again.

Santana finally found her wristwatch that she had put down on the nightstand and brought it up to her eyes. "It's 3 AM. What is it? I needs to gets my snoozin' on."

"I can't sleep."

"Try closing your eyes," Santana answered half-heartedly. She gave her pillow a shake to fluff it and when she was done, she plopped her head back down on it. She really was tired. As it turned out, climbing a tree and rescuing a kitten took a lot of her energy today.

"No, Santana," Brittany sighed. "I tried that already. Tried counting sheep, but then I just got confused. There were too many of them. Tried imagining that I was making a snow angel— well, actually, a _cotton_ angel because I didn't want to get cold and cotton is much fluffier than snow. But then the cotton became cotton _candy_ and it was pink and sweet and then I started to get hungry. And then—"

"Alright, alright," Santana ran her hands over her face and sat up, grudgingly so, on her bed. She hated that Brittany made her so… permissive. Weak.

She huffed. "What do you want to do?"

Brittany bit her nails. What _did_ she want to do?

"Britt," Santana shook her head. She stepped out of her bed, wrapped her blanket around herself and walked to where Brittany was sitting. "Stop it. You're gonna have ugly fingernails," she said, pulling Brittany's hand away from her mouth. Brittany gave her an apologetic smile and Santana sat herself down next to her.

There was a pregnant silence hanging in the air and Santana was starting to doze off. But she forced her eyes open again when she realized that Brittany hadn't told her why she threw a pillow at her yet. She yawned as wide as she could and stretched her arms into the air. She shook her head a little bit to get the sleep out of her eyes.

"So?" Santana finally asked.

Brittany tilted her head to the right out of confusion. "So what?"

Santana rolled her eyes. Just because Brittany had gotten into her very short list of tolerable people, it didn't mean that she wouldn't be getting the occasional eye roll.

"What do you wanna do?"

"OH! Yeah, OK. Sorry," Brittany said. "I don't know. I can't stop thinking about Lord Tubbington," she pouted. She really didn't like the fact that the kitten was alone in a dark, cold basement.

Santana sighed. Of course it was about the kitten.

"Do you want to check on him?" Santana offered. "I'll go with you."

Brittany turned her head so fast, Santana could swear she heard a whoosh. She gasped. "You will?"

"Yeah, I mean," Santana cleared her throat. "Like you said. It's _our_ kitten, right?"

Brittany beamed. "You're the best, Santana."

Santana got up and walked to her nightstand. If there was anything that she learned from living in a group home, is that she should always, _always_ keep a flashlight. It helped during the many blackouts that happened when she was still living there, _and_ sneaking out was impossible without the faithful friend.

"OK, let's go," she said after clicking the flashlight on. She grabbed Brittany's hand and they walked to the door.

The girls tiptoed to the basement, making as little noise as possible. They were sure either Will or Emma would send the kitten away to a shelter once they found out about it, so ninja mode was necessary. Also necessary: keeping the secret from Puck so he wouldn't rat them out.

"Hey there, baby," Brittany cooed to the tiny cat in the shoebox. It was restlessly pacing in what little space its cardboard confinement was when the girls finally got there. "Can't sleep? Me neither."

Brittany stroked the kitten carefully and it started to cry with squeaky meows.

"Shut up, Tubbs," Santana scolded in her loudest whisper. "You're gonna get us caught!"

"Don't be mean, Santana!" Brittany scolded her back. "He's just crying cause he's lonely."

The kitten looked at Santana smugly. Like he was satisfied that Brittany defended him and not Santana.

Santana squinted her eyes on him. _Why you arrogant little… _

"Well, if Will and Emma found out that we have a cat down here, he'd be even lonelier than he ever was," Santana protested. "So you better shut it, Tubbs. Otherwise you'd be kicked out," she told the kitten. "Just because you're a Lord, doesn't mean you're superior than me."

Brittany pursed her lips. Santana _did _have a point. She still didn't approve of Santana's rude behavior towards their new pet though.

Playing the mommy to Santana's evil stepmother, Brittany scooped the small kitten out of the shoebox with her hands and whispered to it. "Hey," she kissed the cat. "Hey, kitty cat. Don't cry, okay? How 'bout I sing you a song?"

Santana opened her mouth to let her objection be known, but before she had the chance to say anything, Brittany already cut her off. "I promise I'll be very quiet," she said, and Santana canceled what she was going to say.

"If you rescue me," Brittany started to sing. "I'll be your friend forever. Let me in your bed, I'll keep you warm in winter."

"What kind of song is that?" Santana whispered to her roommate and that earned her a shush. She muttered a 'whatever' and leaned her back against the wall.

"All the kitties are playing, they are having such fun," Brittany playfully moved Lord Tubbington's tiny paws. "I wish it could happen to me."

Santana listened to the words. Her lips twitched into an accidental smile. _This is such a Brittany song, _she thought and, no doubt, if it were anybody else in the world that was singing it, she would've put a duct tape on their mouth before the second line had ever started.

Something tickled her nose and she snapped back from her thoughts and jumped a little when she saw that Lord Tubbington right in front of her eyes. Brittany was holding the kitten in a way that her fingers could still somehow move the kitten's legs and make them dance.

"Oh, someday I know someone will look into my eyes and say 'Hello,'" Brittany continued to sing as Lord Tubbington faux-danced his way onto Santana's cheek. "'You're my very special kitten.'" Santana pushed away Brittany's hand and rolled her eyes, pretending to be annoyed. But she couldn't help the smile that was forming on her face.

"So if you rescue me, I'll never have to be alone again," Brittany nudged Santana's shoulder with her own and they both smiled. "I'll never have to be alone again."

"Where did you learn that song?" Santana asked. "It's a really weird song."

"I made it up," Brittany stuck her tongue out.

Santana chuckled. That sounded like a Brittany thing to do.

"Well," Santana jerked her chin to the sleeping kitten. "Looks like you did it, Britt. He's not crying anymore," she gently grazed her fingers on its head and the kitten snuggled into the warmth. Santana smiled watching Lord Tubbington move. She had to admit, that cat was kind of adorable— when it wasn't busy scratching her arms.

Santana looked up and accidentally met Brittany's eyes. The gentle smile that graced her face faded once she saw the pleading look on Brittany's.

"What?" Santana asked.

"Can we take Lord Tubbington to our room?"

"I don't know, Britt," Santana threw a glance to the basement door. "What if we ran into someone on our way upstairs?"

"Come on, Santana," Brittany pleaded. "I'll hide him under my shirt. Please?"

Santana's gaze bounced from the door, to Brittany, to the kitten, then to Brittany again, who was making sad puppy eyes to her.

She huffed. "Fine," said Santana. "But just… be careful. And you," Santana tenderly stroke the tip of Lord Tubbington's nose with her index finger. "Be very _very _quiet, OK?"

The kitten sneezed, Brittany awww-ed and Santana shook her head. _Oh, boy._

The trip back to their room was filled with even more adrenaline than their way down to the basement. Maybe it was because Santana was afraid they would wake up the whole house, or maybe it was because they were smuggling a cat and Brittany insisted to practice her baby talk with it. Santana tried shushing Brittany several times, but it was no use. Brittany didn't stop. Santana ended up covering Brittany's mouth with her hand, much to Brittany's disdain, as they climbed up the stairs.

oOoOo

"Britt, come on," Santana pulled Brittany's hand away from her mouth the second time that night. They ended up sleeping on Brittany's bed, however small it was, because Santana wasn't convinced that Lord Tubbington wasn't going to roll off the bed if there wasn't someone else on his other side. Brittany, when she heard Santana's reasoning, grinned. She knew Santana was a softie inside.

"Enough with the nail biting." Santana said.

"Sorry," Brittany grinned apologetically. She took a pause.

"Do you think, _if_ I ever got adopted, my new parents would hate me for it?"

Santana turned her head and quickly gave the girl next to her a calming smile. "No way," she said. "Pretty sure nobody could ever hate you. But if they do, you tell me and I'll go all Lima Heights on them, okay?"

Brittany giggled. "Okay," she agreed, her hand still stroking the soft fur of Lord Tubbington. The kitten was sleeping sound and warm between them.

"I'm serious," Santana frowned, disappointed because all she received were giggles.

Brittany met Santana's eyes and saw that she was sincere. "I know, Santana," she said. Slowly, to make sure that the other girl knew that she was grateful for the offer.

"Hey Santana," Brittany called.

"What?"

"I really liked talking to you today."

"Yeah?"

"Yeah," said Brittany. "How come we didn't do it sooner?"

"I don't know," Santana answered. "Guess I didn't think I'd like it that much."

"Does this mean we're friends?"

Brittany offered her pinky and Santana observed it for a spell before latching onto it with her own. For the first time in a long while, she liked the idea of being friends with someone. And she's glad that someone was Brittany.

"Best of," Santana answered.

Brittany nudged Santana's foot with her own. "Should've made you cry sooner."

"Hey," Santana frowned. "For the record, I made myself cry that day."

"Yeah, yeah," Brittany laughed and Santana shushed her. But soon they were exchanging sleepy smiles. It wasn't long before all that was heard in the room was just the sound of their steady breathing.

Santana had never felt this calm before. It was nice. She didn't exactly feel completely liberated, but she knew she could relax. For now.

In the quiet gap, Santana's brain heard Brittany's words from their time together at the park.

"_If you don't believe in magic, you'll never ever find it."_

But somewhere on the back of her mind, something was telling her that maybe she had already found her magic. And she was pretty sure that "it" was sharing a living space with her.

What _was_ magic, actually? Wasn't it the power to influence something by using some sort of mysterious, supernatural power? And wasn't that, in essence, what Brittany was?

Santana had had a couple of years of training in terms of peering into the space, but keeping both feet out the door. Ever since both of her parents were gone, Santana had learned two things. One, the weak doesn't survive, and two, if you don't love, you don't hurt. Those, among other things, were reasons why she put up walls so high up and sturdy that nobody would ever succeeded in climbing it, or tearing it down.

Brittany, however, slowly but effectively, did it. And just like how hard it is to stop a flood once the water runs over the dam, she couldn't stop Brittany from taking bricks, one by one, out of her walls.

She wasn't sure she wanted Brittany to stop either.

"Britt," Santana called, right before Brittany surrendered completely to tiredness.

"Yeah?" Brittany croaked.

Santana turned her face left to face the sleepy blonde girl and said to her in the quietest of whispers, "I think I kinda _do_ believe in magic."

* * *

><p><em>The other AN:_

_Soooooo... I kiinda lied. Brittany didn't make up that song she was singing for Tubbs._

_But! 1000000 points for you who knows the song without going to this link — youtube(.)com/watch?v=F32wajv-uUw_


	8. Powers

_A/N: I'm sorry it's a filler chapter. Been really busy these days :\ _

_As always, thanks for the reviews and alerts, guys! _

_Next chapter: Santana & Brittany finally go to school. They gotta start some time, right? :P_

* * *

><p>Santana had lost count of how many times she had hung out in the living room with the rest of the household. She convinced herself that maybe there was something in the water. Or maybe the chemical concoction from all of Emma's cleaning supplies somehow seeped into her brain and slowly changed her from the loner girl who always went straight to her room after dinner into this weirdo who would rather roll her eyes at whatever nonsense this household come up with during their dull conversations around the coffee table.<p>

Yeah it must be the chemicals.

Santana subtly shook her head. Scratch that. It was Brittany who had convinced her to stay the first time, and it was Brittany who kept convincing her to stay every night.

She remembered the first night she started joining the rest of the household in their nightly gathering. Brittany, cursed her fast reflexes, caught her hand just before she took her first step up the staircase and shot her one of those looks. The look that had repeatedly made Santana bent her own rules of never caring. The look that made her agree to take Lord Tubbington home with them and split the cost of milk and cat food with the other girl.

It was also the look that convinced Emma and Will to let them keep the cat. Well… that, and her unrivaled acting skills. Crying on cue wasn't an easy thing to do. In fact, that morning when both of the girls woke up to find Emma and Will's unpleasant faces in the room, and a certain kitten in Will's hands, Santana froze and Brittany completely took over.

Lo and behold, the next day, Will drove them both and Lord Tubbington to the vet to get it vaccinated. He had no problem warming up to Lord Tubbington even though he was more of a dog person.

Emma was another story, though. Even though she was the first one who agreed to let the girls keep the cat (Santana figured it was her effort to make way into the girls' hearts), she needed more time to handle her cleaning anxiety, which was perfectly understandable. Nevertheless, after a few weeks of avoiding the feline and arming herself with a dustbuster, she regressed to only carrying a lint remover. And that was because a certain blonde girl convinced her to.

Brittany.

Magic.

oOoOo

_The minute she was done drying all the dishes, Santana excused herself to go to her room. She really didn't have anything better to do up there, but she was afraid that if she stayed downstairs too long, she would be trapped listening to everyone else's tedious stories about their day._

_She was afraid that she would love it._

_Santana was about to take her first step up the stairs when something stopped her in her tracks. She felt a hand covering her wrist and immediately knew that it was Brittany. No other person in that house would've dared to._

"_Santana," Brittany called her and Santana turned her neck halfway just to tell the blonde girl that she was listening._

"_No, Brittany," Santana whined. "I'm not going to stay and listen to these clowns. I'm going upstairs."_

"_Why?" asked Brittany. "So you could read that newspaper again? I bet you've read it a million times before and you have every word memorized already."_

_Santana scoffed. She didn't like what Brittany's saying because it was true. "So?" Santana asked. "It's my newspaper, my life, and my night. You can't make me do what I don't want."_

"_Santana, wait," Brittany called her name and once again she caught Santana's hand and pulled it slightly. "I know it's important to you, Santana. I do. Even though you've never told me what it is that's in that newspaper, I can tell that it is. Your face gets all frowny and sad. You probably don't even realize that sometimes you cry reading it." _

_Santana was embarrassed. It was true. Sometimes she didn't even that she was crying until she saw herself on a mirror, and she was embarrassed that Brittany had been witnessing those moments. _

_It wasn't like Brittany had never seen her cry before, because she definitely had, but Santana would've liked to keep those weak moments to herself._

_Santana fought to get her hand out of Brittany's, but it was no use. Brittany had quite a grip on her and she had no intention of letting Santana go._

"_Let me go, Britt," Santana whispered angrily through her teeth._

"_No," said Brittany. Her voice was firm. "I'm not gonna. I don't like seeing you sad, Santana. We're best friends and best friends don't let each other be sad. Please stay. I promise you won't have to do it tomorrow if you don't want to. Just please don't go upstairs tonight. Just this once."_

_There was something about the way Brittany's voice cracked at the end of her speech, and the squeeze that she did to Santana's hand that made her heart feel like she was taking a plunge in a rollercoaster. And that was what made her keep their handhold and follow Brittany's tug towards the living room to endure the most boring, most mind-numbing conversation, started by Will, about the sweater vest sale going on in the local apparel store, and a new organizational tip that Emma found that day in a housekeeping magazine._

_If it weren't for Brittany's periodical nudges on her upper arm, she would've lost her patience and suffocated herself with the couch cushions. She really didn't know how the other two kids in the house had the energy to keep their façade of enthusiasm. Puck especially, because he really didn't seemed like the kind of boy who would last long in those types of situation. _

_Nevermind. _

_Santana knew what it was. Puck had already told her. This is the closest thing to a family that he could ever get, and he wasn't going to ruin it. Somewhere deep inside, Santana admired his standpoint— not that she would ever admit it._

_In spite of all her inner resistance, though, Santana couldn't deny the fact that she was glad she stuck around that night. In the middle of a self-centered monolog about how he had been pushing for a glee club at the school he was teaching, Will showed the kids the "office". Santana always thought an 'office' was just a fancy term to call a room with a desk with piles of paper on top of it, with probably a bookshelf filled with pretentious self-help books that nobody ever really needs. As it turned out, it was really where he had been keeping all his trophies (they were small and unimpressive, Santana thought), and something else. A piano._

_Santana stared at the musical instrument sitting on the corner of the room, wide-eyed._

"_You have a piano?" she asked. She cursed herself for not being able to stop the question from flowing out of her mouth. But whatever. She couldn't believe that this boring old house would have something that she could actually like. _

_Will's face lit up. He and Emma looked at each other as if they had succeeded in peeling a layer of an onion that was Santana. This was, after all, the first time Santana had ever raised a question on her own._

"_Why yes, Santana," Will took some steps forward. "It's not a fancy, grand one, but this bad boy has been around for a while. I used my first paycheck to buy it."_

"_Do you play?" Brittany asked._

_Santana shrugged. "I had lessons."_

"_Could you show us?"_

_Santana shrugged again. She didn't dare to look at Brittany because she already knew that her roommate wouldn't have to do a lot of convincing to make her play the piano. She also knew that Brittany had already put on that look again. Damn her powers. "Not very good at it."_

_She lied. _

_As a matter of fact, for a girl who only had less than a year of lessons, she was pretty good. Both of her parents, especially Antonio, were very musical people and they passed on their passion to their daughter. _

_Santana remembered posing for pictures with her very proud parents one night after a Christmas recital. She also remembered how her dad used to brag about how his 'Santanita' was going to be famous one day, and that Ines and himself would follow her around the world and be at every show._

"_Oh, come on, Santana," she heard Puck say. "Show us what you got."_

_If it had come from someone else in the room, she would've considered actually playing because, in all honesty, she had been missing the feeling of keys touching her finger tips and the notes that she was capable of bringing to life. But she didn't miss the "Twinkle Twinkle Little Star is a nice little song" that Puck disguised under his breath._

_So she sent him a sarcastic smile and a comment about how he wouldn't be able to hear it anyway even if she ended up playing a perfect rendition of Schumann's Traumerei because he loved himself too much. "I mean, you really love yourself."_

_The innuendo wasn't missed by anyone, except probably by Brittany who quickly told everyone that she loved herself too— and everybody else. However red Puck's ears had gotten from anger and frustration of not being able to throw Santana a clever comeback, they turned into his normal skin color after hearing Brittany's sincere comment. He excused himself to get another glass of water._

_Will cleared his throat. "Well," he said to Santana. "Now that you know where it is, feel free to use it. But please don't mess with whatever you see in this area," he moved to the other side of the room and gestured to his desk and bookshelf. "I have important documents here— some of them are legal matters. It's not that I don't trust any of you guys, but I don't even trust myself with them. So please remember that, okay?"_

_Brittany firmly nodded while Santana gave him a positive shrug. It was all the promise she could muster that night._

oOoOo

Santana sighed.

There she was, months after that first night, sitting on the same crème colored couch in the living room, ready to go through one, two hours of acting like she really wanted to be there to listen to Will and Puck talk nonsense about football and other manly things, and watch as Emma slipped in comments about how wonderful her day was only to get cut off by Will with a line that showed the very little amount of appreciation he had for Emma's daily life. "That's great, honey. Say, how about some coffee?" or, "Aw, sorry to hear that sweetheart but did you hear about what Figgins told me today?"

Santana never said anything whenever that happened. Most of the time she would roll her eyes. But she rolled her eyes so much, and at almost anything, that Will, Emma, and Puck had stopped reacting to the gesture. It was a part of Santana and they had learned to live with it, and to leave her alone.

But Brittany had the privilege of bearing witness to the behind-the-scenes of the Santana Show. Every night, when the girls were back in their room, Santana would go on and on about how awful and self-absorbed Will was. Sometimes she would even go as far as saying that Emma shouldn't have married Will in the first place.

The blonde half of the duo always half agreed because while Brittany didn't argue with Santana's point of view, she thought Will and Emma were actually cute together. Despite the fact that he was heavily preoccupied with himself, he took the time to help Emma with the dishes. He put away things, knowing that Emma really didn't like it if things were out of place. He washed the grapes and sometimes with a toothbrush, one by one, if Emma couldn't convince herself that they were clean enough to eat.

Santana's go-to response to Brittany's grounds? "I guess," complete with a signature shrug.

She really didn't like being proven wrong. Or half wrong, in this case.

"Oh my god," Brittany closed the door and walked towards her bed. "That pie was amazing."

Santana gave her a half smile and nodded. She huffed, quite loudly, as she went through her sleep clothes in the dresser.

Brittany looked at her. "What?"

"Nothing."

"Your 'nothing' is always something, Santana."

"Britt, let it go," Santana huffed again. "It's nothing. I'm just tired. It's been a really long night."

Brittany sighed. Sometimes she thought Santana's walls aren't just too high, but also riddled with ivy that made it even more difficult for her to climb.

"You know what I think?" asked Brittany to an unsuspecting Santana as she peeled off the blanket from her bed.

Santana paused in the middle of fluffing her pillow. "I'm not a mind reader, Britt. So no, I don't know what you think."

"I think you're sweet," Brittany said through a grin.

Santana scoffed. "I'm sweet? _I'm_ sweet?" she asked Brittany twice, pointing to herself, making sure that Brittany knew who she was talking to. "Did you bump your head?"

Brittany stopped what she was doing and thought about her answer. She scratched her temple.

"Yeah, I kinda did," said Brittany. "Lord Tubbington refused to get out from under the bed even after I told him to very nicely. So I had to get in there and drag him out."

"And then you bumped your head?"

"No," Brittany shook her head. "He ran into the kitchen. But when I got there I couldn't find him, so I started opening the cupboards. That's when I bumped my head. On one of the doors."

"Did you find Tubbs?"

"He wasn't even in the cupboards," Brittany pouted and Santana couldn't help but chuckle. "He was under one of the kitchen stools."

Santana shook her head. "Britt, you gotta be more careful," she told Brittany sweetly. "You're gonna get banged up one of these days and we don't want that."

Brittany smiled. "See?"

"See what?" Santana furrowed her eyebrows. "Britt, you have to stop assuming that I can read your mind."

"You _are_ sweet, Santana," Brittany climbed up her bed and Santana climbed her own.

"Am I not supposed to care if you hurt yourself?"

"No, I mean," Brittany pulled her covers up to her shoulders and turned sideways. "I wasn't wrong when I said you're sweet. And I really don't see _why_ you think it's wrong to say that you are."

"Brittany," Santana scoffed again and shook her head. She really couldn't see why _anybody _would call her sweet. "I bet you if you asked Emma, Will and Puck, none of them would agree with you calling me _sweet_," said Santana with her fingers making up two giant quotation marks in the air.

"But that's just it, Santana," said Brittany with a higher tone. "It's because nobody could see it— because I'm the only one who gets to see that side. And I'm super happy about it, but I wish you'd let other people see it too."

"Britt, I'm seriously lost here. What are you talking about?"

"I'm talking about the way you've been saying how Will's an ass for taking Emma for granted."

"Um," Santana squinted her eyes. "I've never said that."

"Never? Really?" asked Brittany and Santana shot her an are-you-kidding-me look. "Come on, Santana. We both know that's a lie. The other day you told me that Emma should've married a hunky dentist because dentists don't have to stand in front of classes and therefore, not as self-absorbed as Will."

Santana pursed her lips. "Well, OK maybe I did say that…"

"And the day before that you said you wanted to punch Will for never actually asking how Emma's day went. She had to start her own topic and even then, Will rarely listens."

"Well, yeah, bu—"

"Well, there you go. Even though you have a different way of showing it, it sounded like you care about Emma, Santana. Ergo, you're sweet," said Brittany with confidence.

Santana cocked an eyebrow. "Ergo?"

"I heard it on Electric Company."

"You still watch that show?" Santana tilted her head.

"Well, yeah. It's a good show. I know you think it's for kids, but they rap and stuff. Sometimes they breakdance too. It's totally cool," Brittany shrugged like it was the most obvious thing in the world.

Santana slowly nodded. She really didn't have the energy to argue at the moment. "If you say so."

Brittany gave her a small smile, thanking Santana for not making fun of her even if it was easy to.

"You're avoiding the topic," Brittany accused her.

"Guess I am."

"I don't get it, Santana," Brittany suddenly sat up. "Is it _that_ bad for you to let people know you care? Are we supposed to _not_ care? Have I been wrong all this time?"

"No," Santana shook her head and quickly answered. "Do whatever you want to do, Brittany. Just because _I'm _this way, doesn't mean you're supposed to be like me. Just be you, Brittany. Stay this way. Be your caring, loving self," said Santana and she made sure she looked at Brittany straight in the eyes when she was talking to let her know that she wasn't lying. "I have my reasons."

"Any chance you'd tell me what they are?" Brittany pouted and Santana had to chuckle at the genuine question.

"Probably," Santana said. "But probably not."

"OK," said Brittany. She reached for the lamp switch on the wall between their beds and flicked it off and spoke again. "You know you're going to someday. I have powers."

Santana chuckled and threw a pillow at Brittany. But all she got was Brittany saying that it was true and she didn't argue.

"I really think I can control people's thoughts," said Brittany. Then she yawned and spoke again, half-asleep. "Hope you'll dream of rainbows and ponies."


	9. Doug

_**A/N:** Thank y'all for the reviews and alerts! I appreciate each and every single one of them :) they make my days._

_As promised, school._

_Disclaimer: The world would be a better place if we all own Glee and its characters instead of the current showrunners. Unfortunately, that's not gonna happen. Boo._

* * *

><p>Brittany glanced at Santana before swinging her backpack onto her shoulder. The latter girl didn't look thrilled at all to arrive at their new Middle School. The side of her head was leaning on the window and she was sitting like a rag doll in a cupboard. Her eyes were looking through the window, but they weren't focused on anything at all. It was as if she was looking at something far, far away.<p>

Brittany tilted her head. Santana did this a lot. She got lost in her cloudy mind a lot. Not as much as before, though. In fact, the frequency of Santana getting lost in her thoughts had decreased significantly. Brittany liked to think that she had something to do with it, and sometimes Santana even showed it with her shrouded words, but she could never be sure. Even though they were considerably closer, Santana was still a maze whose walls were equipped with hidden nooks and crannies.

"Santana," Brittany waved a hand in front of her friend's eyes.

"Santana," another voice came from the driver's seat. "Are you okay, honey? The bell's going to ring soon."

Emma didn't want to seem like she couldn't wait to get rid of the girls, but she really didn't have time for this. She had a job interview that day and she needed to make sure that she was at least 30 minutes early. That was also why she couldn't wait any longer for Puck to be done with his morning hair ritual. She regretted ever giving permission to Puck to cut his hair Mohawk. The amount of time he had been spending to make sure his hair was 'perfectly unperfect' was ridiculous.

"Santana," Brittany tried again and this time she put a hand on Santana's shoulder and shook it a little. "You ready?"

Santana was brought back from her daydream. She turned to face Brittany and gave her a pointed look. "I'd rather lay around in bed," she gave Brittany a shrug. "But whatever."

Brittany chuckled and shook her head. She reached over and opened the door on Santana's side and scooted over when the other girl was finally out of the car. She gave the door a good push to close it, but not too hard that it would make bang that would make Emma cringe.

"Bye Emma," Brittany waved to her guardian for the last time and the woman rolled down the passenger window.

"If you need anything, get the secretary to call Will. All of the teachers here know each other, and he's just next door," Emma pointed at a high school entrance right next to the gates. William McKinley High School.

"Have fun, okay? I'll be picking you up later," said Emma with a reassuring smile.

Brittany nodded. "We will," she said. Santana's response was only a delayed half smile that Emma couldn't see before she drove off.

They were about to walk into the building when a heavy voice startled them. "Hello there, girls," a hefty man in a suit and a cowboy hat approached them wearing a strange look on his face. "You're new, aren't you? I've never seen you here before."

There was something in his voice, and even in the glimmer of his eyes that didn't settle well with Santana. She unconsciously took a step forward and set her left foot slightly in front of Brittany, as if she were a guard dog. "Yeah, we are," she said with a daring look on her eyes. "And you are?"

The burly man laughed. "My, my, you're a feisty one," he said, taking off his hat. "The name's Doug Geoffrey, girls. I just so happen to be the chairman of the school board."

Santana eyed the man up and down. She didn't like him. She didn't like the reeking smell of sleaze oozing out of his pores and too shiny shoes.

Doug stretched out his hand. "What's your name," he asked Santana.

"None of your business. But if you're the chairman, I'm sure you can find out fro—"

"Hi, I'm Brittany," Santana got cut off by a hand coming from behind her, reaching out to shake Doug's. _A good first impression is important,_ her father's advice replayed in her ears.

"Hello there, Brittany," Doug sandwiched Brittany's hand with both of his as he shook it. "It's very nice to meet you."

"Nice to meet you too, Sir," Brittany replied, taking a couple of steps forward to get in front of Santana. She knew what Santana was doing, and she appreciated it. But she couldn't help it if she was super friendly. "This is my best friend Santana."

Santana closed her eyes, took a deep breath and subtly shook her head. As sweet as Brittany was, sometimes it was too easy to be frustrated with her.

"Brittany and Santana," Doug pointed at the blonde girl and then at the Latina. "Best friends?

Brittany nodded. "Yeah, we live together."

"Is that so?" asked the man with an amused tone. Santana didn't like it at all. Truth be told, she felt a little bit intimidated, if not threatened, by the stranger.

"Yeah, we live with Will and Emma," said Brittany, pointing to a car in the distance. "Emma just dropped us off. They're our foster parents."

"So both of you are foster kids?" the man moved his head up and down, nodding to the new piece of information that he just learned. His mouth twitched a little and almost formed a smile that made the hair on the back of Santana's neck stand up.

The bell rang and Santana got her exit. She quickly turned back into her protective mode and snapped. "Look, Mister. I get that you somewhat_ rule_ this school, but I'm pretty sure our home life isn't any of your business," she grabbed Brittany's hand and pulled her behind herself.

"So if you'd excuse us, not that if would matter if you don't, we need find the principal's office. C'mon, Britt," Santana turned around and practically dragged Brittany with her.

"See you around, Brittany, Santana," Doug waved after the girls and Santana shuddered at his thick Southern twang. She hastened her steps and Brittany, even though she was overpowered by Santana's haul, managed to wave back with a smile.

"Santana, slow down," Brittany protested. When Santana didn't, she stopped on her tracks, pulling the other girl into a halt. "Santana!"

Santana let go of Brittany's hand. "What, Britt?"

"What's wrong with you?"

"Nothing. We need to get to the principal's office, okay? The bell rang."

Brittany squinted her eyes in disbelief. She knew Santana wasn't telling the whole truth. "It's not just that, is it?"

Santana crossed her arms. "I don't know what you're talking about."

"Were you scared of that man?"

"What? No," Santana scoffed. She looked at Brittany, who was now looking at her knowingly. "OK, fine. If you must know, that man creeps me out. Seriously, Britt, there's something wrong with him."

"You say that about everybody," Brittany smiled. "Bet you said that about me too when you first met me."

Santana rolled her eyes. "Not the point, Britt. He was looking at you like he was Takeru Kobayashi looking at a sausage."

"He was just being nice, Santana. Besides, he's a part of this school. He's not gonna do anything bad. People would know," said Brittany with a shrug. "And I can take care of myself. I'm not that smart but I can take care of myself."

Santana took a deep breath. She felt guilty for making Brittany think low about herself. "I know, Brittany. I didn't mean to— I was— I just don't like the guy, that's all."

Brittany pursed her lips and nodded. "Okay."

"Look, I'm sorry, okay?" Santana pleaded with her eyes and kicked the floor with her right foot. "I'm sorry if you thought I didn't think that you're smart enough to take care of yourself. I really am."

"It's okay," Brittany shrugged. "It's kind of true, anyway. It's my fault for not always understanding stuff."

"No, Bri—"

"But thanks for looking out for me," Brittany cut Santana off and gave her a small smile. "Come on," she grabbed Santana's arm. "Let's go to the principal's office. We're late."

Santana didn't argue. If Brittany could respect her enough to always drop a 'Santana issue', then she should return the gesture.

oOoOo

Brittany was enjoying her day immensely. She and Santana had found out that they were put together in the same classes and were even given lockers that were next to each other for the whole year, and she was really thankful for it. She made a mental note to thank Will later, because she just knew that there was no way Will didn't have anything to do with this arrangement, thanks to the secretary who kept mentioning his name when they came by the office to pick up their schedules.

Judging from how Santana let out a sigh of relief as soon as she was done reading her schedule, it looked like she wasn't the only one who was pleased with the arrangement. And this made Brittany even happier.

Even though Brittany had always loved school— not the subject, but the promise of making new friends everyday— she was worried that she wouldn't be doing a good job keeping up with the subjects, now that she didn't have her mom and dad anymore to help her. Brittany knew she wasn't the brightest bulb in the shed and, strangely enough, Santana was the only one, besides Emma and sometimes Will, who was capable enough to handle her unusual way of thinking. Knowing that Santana was actually content with their identical school year fates planted a much-needed seed of encouragement.

They got through their first few classes without any trouble. Santana rolled her eyes every time the teacher asked the whole class to introduce themselves. Their names, hobbies, favorite this and favorite that. She really hated that sort of nonsense. If she wanted to get to know her fellow students, she would've asked them questions herself. Or at least considered it.

"OMG please make her shut up," she passed Brittany a piece of paper during some dark-haired girl's— her name was Rachel— super long, super boring introduction about herself, and her affinity for Broadway legends and musicals.

Brittany chuckled and scribbled on the paper before she passed it back to Santana. "Longest speech ever. Who's this Barbara lady she keeps on talking about anyway?"

"You spell it 'Barbra', Britt. Barbra Streisand. She's a legendary singer and actress," Santana wrote.

"Oh, OK. I thought she was her mom or something," Brittany replied.

Santana scrunched her eyebrows before she jotted down a question. "Did you miss the part about her having two dads?"

Brittany smiled mischievously before writing again. "A-ha! So you ARE paying attention to them!"

"Please. The only reason why I'm listening is so I can tell the losers apart from the decent ones to hang out with," Santana explained in the paper. "So far, everyone's a loser."

Brittany pursed her lips. She brought her upper body closer to her desk and started scribbling with her pen.

From the corner of her eye, Santana could see that her best friend was fully concentrating on what she was doing. She even took pauses in between before finally returning the paper to the original owner.

Santana smiled reading the reply and inevitably enjoyed the warm feeling inside her chest. _How is Brittany so sweet, _she wondered, but then she remembered that anyone who wasn't her probably had the capacity of being pleasant all the time.

"It's OK. I'd rather hang out with you anyway," the note said. It was short. But Brittany's doodle of two girls holding hands on the bottom was more than enough to bring a smile that lasted on Santana's face— until it was her time to introduce herself for the third time that day.

oOoOo

Their second day of school was okay. Granted, Brittany still had to pull a grumpy Santana out of her bed and it earned her an earful of whining from the girl, but overall, it was a good day.

Brittany made a couple of friends. In Social Studies, she was partnered with a girl named Mercedes Jones. She was loud and just like Santana, she wasn't the type of girl who'd take nonsense from anyone. When a boy named David unceremoniously swiped Brittany's pen from her desk, Mercedes scolded him to no end and eventually made him return the "borrowed" item.

Santana watched the whole thing from her seat, two rows behind. She was about to jump out of her chair to give David hell when she saw him taking Brittany's pen, but instantly relaxed when she realized that Mercedes was already taking charge. Santana made a promise to be nice to Mercedes if they ever crossed paths in the future. But for the time being, she needed to focus on holding her breath and stop herself from barfing over this extremely ill-smelling kid with whom she was sharing a workbook on ancient civilization.

oOoOo

On the third day, Santana had given the better chair to Brittany to sit on and she was stuck sitting next to a strange, and horny, nerd whose looks were very unfortunate. His frizzy hair was actually his best feature.

"You're so hot," Jacob told Santana for the nth time, as he stared at her chest.

Santana shuddered, but she wasn't sure if it was out of distress or disgust. Brittany passed a note to Santana at one point, offering her to switch seats, but Santana said no. She would never subject Brittany to this level of repulsion.

Brittany suggested, and Santana considered, that maybe Puck could scare him off. He _was_ a grade higher.

But no. Santana wouldn't go to Puck just because some creepy boy couldn't keep his perverted thoughts to himself. She was badass enough to handle things on her own.

So when the bell rang and as the whole class scrambled to get out of the door, Santana _accidentally_ stepped on his foot with all her might and for a whole month Jacob had to walk with a limp. _That was good enough, _Santana thought. _For now._

Brittany didn't approve of Santana's violent ways, but she still blew raspberries at Jacob every time they came across him for the rest of the schoolyear.

oOoOo

On the fourth day, Santana and Brittany got lost on their way to Math— or rather, Santana let herself get lost with Brittany. Anything with Brittany was a million times better than actually going to classes.

"It's not your fault, Britt," Santana reassured Brittany. "All these lockers on the walls are confusing. But you don't have to worry because we have the same classes anyway."

"Cool," Brittany said. "You're like my personal Dora."

Santana cocked an eyebrow. "Dora?"

"Yeah," Brittany confirmed. "You know, the Mexican girl with the monkey and the map? She always knows where to go."

Santana's jaw hung open. "OK, first of all, I'm Puerto Rican," she said with a scrunch . "And second of all, why were you watching Dora?"

"I don't know," Brittany shrugged. "Sometimes when I wait for my turn to use the bathroom on Sundays I get bored. And Dora's the only thing on TV that early."

"What about the morning news?"

"Let me clarify that," said Brittany in a serious tone. "It's the only thing on TV with a talking monkey in it."

oOoOo

"So guys," Will took a sip of his water. "How is school so far? I heard from Puck both of you are quite popular now?"

"We are?" Brittany asked and Santana stopped her chewing. It was only the end of their first week at McKinley Middle School. Surely they can't be popular yet?

"Totally," Puck said.

"Why?" Santana couldn't help but ask.

"Well, you guys are new. Nobody's ever seen you before the school year started since neither of you went to a nearby school," Puck explained after his mouth was empty. "Plus I heard Santana beat up JBI."

"JBI?" Santana asked. Her relationship with the whole household had gotten better, in a sense. Once in a while she would actually make the effort of joining the conversation. "What the hell is JBI?"

"Language, Santana," Emma reminded her with a firm but gentle tone, and she instantly felt proud of herself. _We've gone so far_, she thought, and it was true. She wouldn't have dared to complain about Santana's anything had it been a month ago.

Puck cut up a piece of his steak and brought it up to his mouth. "Jacob Ben Israel. JBI."

"Swallow before you talk, Puck," Will reminded the boy before he turned to Santana. "You beat up another student? I didn't know it was _that _kind of famous," he disappointedly rested his elbows on the table.

Santana rolled her eyes. "No, Will, I didn't. I wasn't even thinking about it."

"It's true, she didn't," Brittany quickly backed her up. "She just stepped on his feet."

"Britt!"

"What? I'm just telling the truth."

"Santana?"

Santana huffed. She hated this. She hated losing power whenever Brittany was involved.

"Fine," she said. "I stepped on his foot, okay? But only because he was being a creep and was staring at my boobs."

Will choked on his water, obviously not comfortable about where the conversation was going.

"I can vouch for that," Brittany raised her hand. "He was being rude."

"Still," Emma drank her water. "You shouldn't have settled with violence."

"OK, hold up," Santana wiped her mouth with the napkin. "In case you didn't hear, Jacob was being a total creep. He was staring at my boobs and making comments about me. Doesn't that count as harassment? What was I supposed to do?"

"You could've told a teacher about it," Will suggested and Santana scoffed.

"Right, because I tell everybody my problems," she said. "I barely even talk to you. What makes you think that I would talk to anyone else? And besides, Brittany and I are _new meat_," she made quotation marks with her fingers. "Being a tattle-tale is _not_ a good way to start school."

Will and Emma looked at each other as they both processed Santana's speech. They could understand where she was coming from, but it still didn't justify her actions.

In the middle of the silence, Puck put down his fork and knife.

"Don't worry about it, guys," he told Emma and Will. "JBI _is_ kind of a creep. I mean, that dude seriously has no boundaries. Girls and guys hate him. A lot of people actually _have _beaten him up."

Will looked at Puck suspiciously and Puck quickly added that he wasn't one of them. "What I'm saying is that he probably deserved what she did to him," he said, pointing to Santana who was having a hard time believing that Puck was defending her. She was looking at him like he had multiple heads attached to his neck.

The man of the house brought his hand up and ran it through his thick hair. On one hand, he wasn't happy with how Santana handled the situation. On the other hand, Puck had never made a case for Santana before, so that must mean this Jacob boy was really over the line.

Will turned his head to face Emma, looking for some sort of hint as to what he was supposed to do. His wife sighed and gave him a smile. _I'll take over_, she magically transferred her thoughts to him and he instantly relaxed.

"Santana," called Emma from across the table. "While we don't like how you resolved the situation, we're… happy… that you stood up for yourself— not that there were ever any doubt that you could. We're also happy that you didn't do anything more than that," Emma picked up a piece of chicken with the tongs and set it down on Santana's plate. "So no more violence, okay? I mean it."

When Santana didn't quickly respond to her words, Emma held her breath. No matter how much (or little) they had gone forward with their familial relationship, there was always a worrying feeling lurking in the background that, just like a rubber band, Santana would just snap back to the one who went so far as going back to the group home after an argument.

But Brittany… she knew Santana so much better than any other person around her. Brittany stayed quiet as the house discussed JBI, violence and her best friend. Instead, she watched Santana's face carefully during the whole exchange. There were so many things going on at once, so many emotions. She saw a flash of anger in the way Santana's jaw had tightened when the conversation started, but it didn't last. Santana expressions had grown softer and softer, and right now, Brittany could see how the outer corners of her eyebrows were down. And that's how she knew Santana wasn't about to lash out.

"Yes," said Santana after a deep sigh, and a long while of silence. "Okay."

Emma and Will both beamed at her answer. They gave her a satisfied nod before returning their focus on the food. Santana, Brittany, and Puck did the same.

oOoOo

Santana was true to her words. For the next month, she never laid a hand, or a foot in this case, to anyone who crossed her lines. Then again, nobody ever dared to do it again because a) even if she didn't beat up Jacob, he still had to walk with a limp for the whole month, and b) Puck had secretly threatened anyone to not come near Santana, or Brittany.

The only person she was still inclined to maybe kick in the nuts was that big, suspicious man that she and Brittany met on their first day, even though she had already forgotten his name. It was like he was everywhere and was watching them on purpose. But then she thought that maybe it was just in her head, like how you'd start seeing cupcakes everywhere you go once you realized that you're in love with them.

"Britt," Santana called as she stepped out of the restroom. They were finally familiar with every corner of the establishment. They memorized all of the important stuff, like where the cleanest water fountain was, the best meal to eat during lunchtime, where to hide during free periods, and most importantly, where the most nice-smelling restroom was located (on the west side, near the Computer Lab).

"Who were you waving too?" Santana asked Brittany, whose arm was still midair from waving.

"Oh, you done?" Brittany turned around and Santana gave her an affirmative nod. "I was waving to Doug."

"Doug?" asked Santana. "Do we know any Doug? I don't think any of our classmates has that name, Britt."

Brittany laughed. She started to walk towards their next class and Santana walked next to her.

"No, silly. Not a classmate. You know, Doug. The fat man with the cowboy hat?"

Santana's eyes widened. "He was here?"

"Yeah, he was. He said he was on his way to the locker room to find the football coach."

"But," Santana scrunched her eyebrows. "The locker room's way over on the east side…"

"Well, I don't know if it's on the east side or not," Brittany shrugged. East, West, North, South. Those were all just names that made her life even more complicated. Why couldn't everybody point with their hands like her? "But I told him that he might be lost because the locker room's on the other side of the building."

"Huh," Santana bit her bottom lip and nodded. "Then what did he say?"

"Nothing. He just said that I was smart and very pretty. Then he left."

Santana did a double take. "He did what?"

"Um," Brttany hesitated. "He… left?"

"No, before that," Santana shook her head not believing what Brittany had just told her. "He said you're pretty?"

Brittany pouted. "What? I'm not?"

"Not the point, Brittany," Santana huffed. "You know you are. But that's not an appropriate thing to say to you by an old guy."

"Oh," Brittany nodded. Her little skips turned into normal steps. "OK."

"Just stay with me at all times, OK Britt? Even when I go to the restroom. Promise?" Santana offered her little finger and Brittany stared at it before she looked up again.

"Even when I don't need to go?"

Santana gave her thought a reply. "You watch Harry Potter, right?" she asked, and Brittany nodded.

"Well," she smiled. "Hermione went to the bathroom alone and got attacked by a troll."

"Ooh. Gotcha," Brittany beamed and linked her pinky onto Santana's. "OK, I promise."

oOoOo

Santana walked in the cafeteria and took a deep breath before walking to the table where Puck and his friends were sitting. She cleared her throat.

"Puck," called Santana. She didn't mean to sound so helpless, but the damage was already done.

"Santana," Puck nodded.

"Can we talk?" she asked. "Alone?"

Puck eyed Santana up and down and put his sandwich down. He wasn't much of a Santana fan, but he got up from his seat anyway and led Santana to a quiet corner in the cafeteria. And when his friends started to catcall and mock him for being such a gentleman, he swiftly turned around and gave them all a death glare.

"What's wrong? Where's Britt?" he asked once he was done threatening his friends. Santana was impressed. Puck was obviously high on the school's social ladder that his friends instantly quieted down at his threat. She didn't know this before.

"She's in the principal's office," Santana huffed.

Puck furrowed his eyebrows. "What did you do to get her into trouble?"

"Shut up," Santana rolled her eyes. "I didn't do anything. She was called there."

"Well one of you must've done something. They wouldn't call you for nothing."

Santana didn't know what to say. She was with Brittany the whole day in the same classes, and aside from passing notes, they really didn't do anything wrong enough to be sent to the principal. She did, however, have an inclination of what was happening.

Puck read Santana's face and it was saying 'help me' even though he was sure Santana wasn't about to ask him.

"There's something you're not telling me," Puck concluded but Santana stayed quiet. Her chest was heavy with ego. She bit her lip.

"Fine if you don't want my help," said Puck as he turned around. "You were the one who came to me."

"No, wait." Santana grabbed his arm. "Do you, uh," she cleared her throat. "Do you know a man called Doug Geoffr—"

"Oh, Mr.G? Yeah, we know him. Big guy, cowboy hat, bolo tie?"

"Yeah, that's him," confirmed Santana.

Puck crossed his arms. "What about him?"

Santana took a moment to convince herself that this is Puck she was talking to. She knew he was someone that she could trust. At the very least, he defended her for handling JBI and she appreciated it. However big of an he could be, he cared for her and Brittany.

"What do you know about him," Santana whispered.

"He's in the school board. Sometimes he comes down for the football game and gave us pep talk and all that," Puck shrugged and answered Santana's question with a frown on his face. Why would Santana want to know about Doug Geoffrey?

"Does this have anything to do with Brittany?" he asked, and Santana huffed.

"Maybe," said the girl. Her arms imitated Puck's crossed ones. "I don't know yet. I just know that he's been watching her."

Puck uncrossed her arms and took a step closer. "Watching her how?" he asked carefully, and quietly in case anyone was eavesdropping.

"He's been everywhere we go. And I mean _everywhere_. We met him the first day, and I just got a funny feeling about him."

"Funny feeling?" Puck relaxed. "So it was just a _feeling_?" He repeated her words and made airquotes with his hands. "Santana, don't be a drama queen."

Santana snapped. She took a step forward and now their faces were that close from touching each other. "Okay, you listen to me, you little prick. I know that we don't like each other and you get on my nerves so much that I'm _so_ ready to cut one of my legs just to get rid of you. But here's the thing. As much as I hate you, and most probably vice versa, we care about Brittany and you know that I won't make up something like this. There is something wrong with that man and I need to know his intentions," Santana took a pause to breathe. Her jaws tightened with worry and frustration at the same time. But she knew she wasn't going anywhere if she didn't explain it to Puck further.

"I saw him the other day," Santana took a deep breath, "watching us from outside the door when we were in English. Then when we were at our lockers, I saw him turn around and walk away from a corner, a few steps from where Brittany and I were standing."

"He could've been keeping an eye at the whole school, you know? That _is_ part of his job," Puck said with a soft voice. He didn't think he would ever grow a soft spot for Santana, but there it was. If only Santana was that sincere about everything else, too.

"No, I've considered that too," said Santana. "But that was before Brittany told me that he told her she was pretty."

"So?"

Santana raised an eyebrow. "What do you mean, 'so'?" she asked. "That's kind of an inappropriate thing to say to a 12 year old kid, especially when you're 50."

Puck scratched the back of his neck. What Santana said made sense. Doug shouldn't have been making comments like that, but maybe he was just being nice.

"Maybe he was just being nice?"

Santana blinked a few times. "You're serious?"

Puck opened his mouth to talk, but before he even made a sound, Santana saw Brittany happily skipping towards them. So she quickly made him promise to not say anything to anyone yet— not even Will.


	10. Sad

_**A/N:** Hoo boy. That took a while._

_As always thank you for the reviews and alerts. I appreciate them all. I do need comments to make this better, so feel free to leave me notes :) :)_

_Disclaimer: If Glee were mine everybody would graduate at the same time._

* * *

><p>"Um," Santana walked into the kitchen and found Emma already busy in it. "Morning," she said tentatively. It didn't sound wrong to say it— it didn't sound right either— but she was definitely surprised at how good it had felt to just let the greeting roll out of her tongue. Judging from how slow Emma was turning her head around, Santana could tell that the woman felt the same way too.<p>

"Good morning to you too," Emma said with a gleam in her eyes.

The older woman really wasn't expecting Santana to be in the kitchen this early, on a Saturday. Brittany, maybe, because she had always been so sweet from the beginning. Always happy to keep Emma company, even after Emma told her not to do anything but sit at the table (Brittany didn't want to crack the eggs and ended up knocking down the flour when she was hiding them from Emma. "Why couldn't you use Bisquik instead of cracking a baby chicken's house?").

"You're up early," smiled Emma. "Usually it's Brittany who wakes up first."

Santana shrugged. "She's still in bed. I think she's tired from gym yesterday."

"Oh," Emma nodded. "Well, then. It's a good thing I'm starting breakfast. What do you want?"

"Uh," Santana stuttered. "I was going for cereal."

"What?" Emma chuckled. "Don't be silly. No cereal. It's Sunday. Cereal's for school days. You know on weekends we go all out. I got my 'kick butt pancakes' apron on— Puck got me this for last year's birthday— and I'm ready to kick ass in the kitchen! Woo-hoo!" Emma pumped her fist into the air and Santana eyed the graphic on the apron.

_MY PANCAKES KICK YOUR PANCAKES' BUTT!_

Between Emma's very poor attempt at being cool, and Puck's embarrassingly predictable (but arguably cute) gift for the ginger, Santana actually had to fight a smile.

Emma didn't miss how Santana bit the inside of her cheek and how she pretended to scratch her nose. So she gave herself a mental pat on the back for her small victory before she beckoned the Hispanic girl to come closer.

"You can say no if you don't want to," said Emma, raising both her hands up. "But do you want to make pancakes with me?"

Santana looked up. "You want me to make pancakes?"

Emma nodded excitedly. "Mm-hm."

"Me… making pancakes… with you?" Santana asked, pointing her finger at herself, then at Emma.

Emma nodded again with a big smile. "Yeah," she said as she grabbed Santana an unused apron from one of the cupboards.

oOoOo

"Britt," Santana closed the door shut with her foot and walked carefully to Brittany's bed. In her hands was a tray with two little plates of Emma's fresh stacks of pancakes, with a bowl of whipped cream on the side and two glasses of apple juice.

It was one of Brittany's many quirks to have cream on the side instead of right on top of the pancakes. Santana thought it was weird at first, but she got used to it. Just like how she had grown accustomed to everything else Brittany.

"Emma said we can have breakfast in the room today," Santana said as she put down the tray on Brittany's nightstand. "She and Will have something to do somewhere— I wasn't listening— and Puck's already out to a game. So nobody's gonna be there at the table," she told the girl who was staring at the ceiling, still lying down on the bed.

"Brittany?" Santana watched Brittany's eyes open and close, open and close.

Brittany answered lazily. "Hm?"

"You OK?" Santana asked. She sat on the edge of Brittany's bed and brought the back of her hand to feel her friend's forehead, in case she was coming down with something. "Well, you feel OK. You're not feverish..."

Brittany smiled simply. "I'm OK. I just feel," Brittany paused and closed her eyes. "Heavy," she finished. "I feel heavy."

"As in… fat?" Santana asked, confused. Brittany was far from fat. In fact, she was probably more athletic than herself. "Because I don't think anybody would say that you are, Britt."

"No," Brittany softly shook her head and looked at Santana. "It's not that."

"What is it then?"

"I don't know," Brittany shrugged. "I just don't have the energy."

"The energy? The energy to do what?"

"To feel happy."

Santana leaned back on Brittany's headboard and put her legs up on the bed. "You don't have to, you know?"

"But I can't be sad."

"You _can_," Santana told her. "Brittany, you're allowed to be sad."

Brittany took a deep breath. She put both of her arms on her sides, on top of the covers, and huffed. "I don't want to."

Santana thought of her reply before she spoke. Talking to Brittany wasn't hard— really, it's not. You just have to think like her. And Santana took pride that she was getting better at it.

"Sometimes, it feels good to just let yourself be sad once in a while, Britt. Throw a tantrum. Cry your heart out. Bitch at people. " Santana said. "But just… don't do it all the time," she added.

Brittany chuckled. "Like you?"

Santana playfully slapped Brittany's shoulder. "Smart ass," she smiled. "But yeah. Not like me."

"I guess you bitch at people enough for the both of us," Brittany nudged Santana with her elbow.

"That I do," smirked Santana. "But only because you're friendly enough for the both of us. It's all about balance, Britt."

Brittany frowned. "But… if I'm sad and you're sad and angry," she looked at Santana. "Where's the balance? We can't _both_ be sad…?"

Santana shuffled on the bed so that she's on her side now, eyes leveled with Brittany's. "Tell you what," she said with a soft smile. "You go ahead and be sad. I'll be the happy one for as long as you need, _and _I'll try to make _you _happy. Sound good?"

"I'm kind of skeptical— is that the right word? Skeptical?— about this," Brittany scrunched her eyebrows. "I really can't imagine you being happy, Santana."

"D'uh. Which is why I'm going to try and make you feel happy again so we could be normal again, silly! And yes, Brittany, skeptical is the right word," Santana smiled. "OK, then. Project Happy Brittany starts now," she said as she passed Brittany a plate of mostly warm pancakes.

oOoOo

It took a lot of convincing from Santana to make Brittany come downstairs. She finally agreed to it because Santana promised to make their lunch. Brittany joked about how it would probably be just PB&J, just because she had never seen Santana actually cook in the kitchen. But Santana just smirked. _'Wait till I'm done,' _Santana had said, and that alone was enough to make Brittany get out of the bed and shower.

Brittany sat on her legs on the couch as she flipped through the channels. On her lap was Lord Tubbington, sitting cozily, surrendering to Brittany's soothing strokes on his back.

"Oh my God," Brittany shrieked over something she saw on the TV. "Electric Company's on! Santana, you seriously gotta watch this!"

Santana popped her head out from the kitchen. She took advantage of the minutes Brittany was spending in the bathroom to slice, dice and flip, effectively making them a meal that would surprise her roommate in just a minute. "I'll be done in a sec! Do you want lemonade?"

"Yeah, thanks," Brittany yelled back. She could hear Santana shuffling around the kitchen, opening and closing cupboards. She heard plates and glasses knocking softly into each other and when she heard footsteps coming to the living room, she knew Santana was done.

Brittany turned her head around and watched as Santana brought in a tray. "Seriously, what did you make? It smells so good!"

Santana put down the tray on the coffee table. "Ta-daaah! Quesadillas!"

"Casa-what? What's in it?"

"Quesadillas. It has cheese, of course, some leftover chicken from last night, green onions, a bit of mushrooms, tomatoes… and more cheese," Santana grinned.

"Wow," Brittany breathed. Her mouth was watering from the smell alone "It sure isn't PB&J."

"Yep, sure isn't," nodded Santana with pride. She took a slice and for the second time today, she passed the plate to Brittany, who thanked her with a sweet smile.

"It's like a thin crust pizza… but a sandwich," Brittany said, eyeing the food on her plate with awe. "Where did you learn to make this?" she asked before she took a bite, and Santana shrugged.

"It's pretty easy. It's almost like making grilled cheese, only with a different kind of bread."

Brittany looked up and stared at Santana. Her chewing stopped.

"What?" Santana asked. "You don't like it?"

"No," Brittany shook her head and covered her mouth as she spoke. "It's delicious. But why do you do that?"

"Um," Santana furrowed her eyebrows. "Do what?"

"That thing you do when you don't want to answer a question. It's like when they tell people to take a right turn when there's construction on the road. It's a…" Brittany's eyes moved upwards as she thought of the right word. "A detour!"

Santana huffed and sipped her lemonade. "The word that you're looking for is 'deflection', Britt," said the girl. "And if you must know, I learned it from my mom. She used to cook a lot. That's all I'm gonna say," Santana paused. "You know, if she was still around, I bet I'd be famous child chef or something."

"Yeah?"

"Totally," Santana confirmed. "I could've been on my way to becoming the next Nigella."

"Or Paula Deen."

Santana nodded. "Yeah, or Paula Deen. Without the extra fat. Like, a _hot, latina _version of Paula Deen," she said with a wink.

Brittany chuckled. "Well, judging from how awesome this quesadilla is, I'd say you could be a great chef."

The cat on her lap purred and Brittany pulled off a piece of her food. "You wanna try it? Here," said Brittany, setting her hand right in front of Lord Tubbington's nose. A little more than a second later, the cheesy goodness was gone from her hand.

Santana rolled her eyes. "Brittany," she whined.

"What?"

"I didn't make it for that stupid cat."

"Don't be mean, Santana."

"Fine. I didn't make it for that fat cat."

"But I like to share," Brittany pouted. "And look," she pointed to the cat who was moving slowly to her plate, which Santana snatched away. "He loves it. You should be proud."

Knowing that the argument wasn't going anywhere, and that she was going to lose anyway, Santana turned her attention back to the TV.

"Fine," she said. "But I'm not making anymore of it. And you _know _he's gonna eat everything."

Brittany only laughed and continued to feed the cat. Santana, on the other hand, kept giving Lord Tubbington the evil eye.

"Stupid cat," Santana mumbled and Lord Tubbington hissed.

"Santana, stop talking to our baby like that," Brittany covered Lord Tubbington's ears.

"Britt, look at him. He's hardly a baby anymore. I'm telling you, he does not need further spoiling. Ugh, and what _is_ this show?" Santana takes a bite of her food.

A guy with a baseball cap appeared on screen and started beat boxing. "Oh, hell no. This guy is totally too old to be doing kids shows."

Brittany recognized the beat boxing man. "Aw. Don't say that. Katie loved him," said Brittany with a half pout.

Santana paused chewing her food. "Katie… as in… your sister?"

Brittany nodded, not taking her eyes of the TV. "Yeah. She thought beat boxing was cool. We would spend hours and hours practicing." A pause. "We had so much fun together."

Santana smiled tenderly at her friend. _Now_ she knew why Brittany wouldn't stop talking about the TV show. "Are you any good at it?"

"I don't know. Maybe. But definitely not as good as those guys," Brittany pointed at the TV. "Sometimes my dad would put on a show and _attempt_ to do it. Worst. Beat boxer. Ever," she chuckled.

Brittany continued her story and Santana listened attentively. She let Brittany take over their conversation, nodding along, smiling at funny moments. She had to admit, Brittany's family seemed perfect— just like hers— not that there was ever any doubt about it. There was no way a kid like Brittany raised herself into perfection. There was just. No. Way.

From what she had gathered, Brittany's dad was a fun man. Very much like Antonio. He was an engineer for a big electrical company in Ohio, and he was quite a handyman. Brittany told Santana about how he had built a fort for his daughter one day, and it wasn't just a fort out of chairs and blankets. He had actually gone out of his way to build real one out of planks and set it out in their yard.

"So, other kids have their tree houses, Katie and I had our castle," Brittany said proudly.

"He sounds awesome," Santana smiled.

Brittany agreed. "He was perfect."

She wondered whether or not their families would've liked each other.

She scoffed internally.

Of course they would've liked each other.

They would've had lovely picnics at the park. Had summer vacations together, probably. Spent weekends _not_ trapped house-sitting.

"And my mom, she was the best dancer ever. She was a teacher, but she loved to dance. When I was little, before Katie was born, my dad used to tell us all these stories about her performing somewhere and I remember thinking, 'wow, when I grow up, I wanna be just li—"

Brittany's voice cracked and Santana instantly turned her head to look at her friend.

A teardrop.

Santana scooted over. She grabbed Lord Tubbington from Brittany's lap and set him down on the floor. She gently took Brittany's plate away from her hands. "Hey," she reached over for Brittany's hand but ended up hovering over it.

Two.

Brittany's eyes were looking at something far away as the tears came, and the sight of it was torturous.

Three.

Santana was losing it. She really couldn't stand it. The heartache that came with Brittany's tears was worse than what she had felt when the both of them shared her linden in the park.

Four.

Fivesixseven teardrops, and Santana raised a white flag.

"Britt, look at me," Santana finally let her fingertips touch Brittany's forearm. When Brittany looked up and finally met Santana's eyes, she asked again. "You okay?"

It was a stupid question and Santana mentally smacked the back of her head. She already knew Brittany was _not_ okay. But she couldn't help but be awkward at these things (she _did_ spend a couple of years building up emotional barricades), even if it was her best friend who was sitting in front of her.

Brittany forced a smile (Santana heard that cracking noise that she hadn't heard for a while) and shook her head.

"No," Brittany told her best friend honestly. Her hands moved to cover her eyes as if it would stop them from leaking.

"Do you want a hug?" Santana asked.

Brittany answered with nothing but little nods and a sob, and Santana hammered down her walls in a snap. She opened her arms and wrapped Brittany in them.

"It's okay, Brittany," she rubbed Brittany's back. Up and down, up and down. "Sshh…"

"I'm sorry," Brittany whimpered. Her tears were running and her hands were clutching the back of Santana's T-shirt. "I can't stop."

"It's okay," Santana reassured her. "Cry all you want. It's okay."

Brittany sobbed harder into Santana's shoulder. "I miss them, Santana. I really, really miss them."

"It's okay," Santana repeated, trying as best as she could to stop her voice from cracking. Her heart broke for Brittany, her heart broke for herself, but most of all, her heart broke for the fact that they will always have days like this, forever.

"I'm here," Santana told Brittany, just like how Brittany had told her months ago, when Santana was the one helplessly crying into her shoulder. "I'm here."

oOoOo

"Do you ever wish for another set of parents? Family?"

Santana looked up to the person was braiding her hair. Brittany had finally calmed down after 30 minutes of full on crying, and after spending 15 more of those minutes to finish their lunch in silence, the blonde girl told Santana to sit on the floor and let her do her hair.

The way Brittany's hands were going through her hair soothed Santana in some capacity. It brought back memories of lazy afternoons with her head resting at peace on Ines' lap. Bittersweet, but not enough to make her want to curl up in her room and come back to that old piece of newspaper.

She felt guilty because Brittany, the girl who was just crying on her shoulder, was making her feel content. Her heart was fine. No cracking noises, no nothing. Just a cherished quietness inside.

Santana paid attention to the way the air around her moved as Brittany's hands gracefully braid her dark hair. Then she listened carefully to the way Brittany was breathing.

It was steady and soft.

Calm.

Like she hadn't just spent half an hour pouring her heart out onto Santana's shirt.

It was then when Santana realized that, whether or not she was being active about it, she was helping Brittany calm herself down by letting Brittany take control of her hair.

"Is this why you're sad today?" Santana asked. She already knew the answer.

"Kind of," Brittany told her. Santana was about to turn her head around when she felt a pull on her hair. "Don't move, silly," said Brittany, so she did what she was told.

After a long beat, Brittany spoke again. "Sometimes I do," she said. "At first, I didn't want it. I thought nobody could ever replace my real family."

Santana nodded without a sound, just to let Brittany know that she was listening.

"But sometimes I want someone to tuck me in at night. Call someone 'mom'. Call someone 'dad'. You know, those kinds of things."

Brittany tapped Santana's shoulder lightly and Santana handed her the bobby pin that she was keeping safe in her hand.

"And I can't do that with Emma and Will," Brittany sighed. "I mean, they're super nice, and we're kind of like their kids already. But… you know what I mean?"

"So you want them to adopt you?"

Brittany shook her head. "No, no. I don't mean I want _them_ to be my parents. I'm just saying that I like the idea of being someone's daughter again. Maybe somebody's big sister? I don't know. I'm being stupid."

"Hey, no," Santana grabbed Brittany's wrist without even looking. "It's not stupid. A lot of kids like us feel the same way. Why would you think it's stupid?"

"Because," Brittany huffed. She jiggled her wrist a little bit so that Santana would free her right hand— and she did. "Because, I feel like I'm betraying my family. If Lord Tubbington suddenly left us to live next door or something, I'd be really angry at him. Won't you? And don't you think my parents would be angry if I got a new mom or dad?"

"OK, first of all, I stand by what I said. That's not stupid," Santana gently laid down the law. "Second of all, LT wouldn't leave us because we're awesome."

A pause.

"I take that back. Tubbs wouldn't leave _you_ because you're awesome. Fatso hates me."

"He doesn't."

"Oh yes, he does. And finally," Santana continued. There was a change in her tone and Brittany thought it couldn't have gotten any softer. She wondered if other people would ever get the chance to hear this Santana because they should. She sounded like pink clouds.

"Brittany, your parents wouldn't be angry if you got adopted." Said Santana. "From what you've told me, I can tell that they were just as awesome as you and they loved you. Very, very much. I'm sure they'd want you to be happy."

"Yeah?"

"Totally," Santana reassured her friend.

"Would your parents be happy if you got a new family? Did you ever want it?"

Santana nodded and answered the second question truthfully. "I went through that phase for, like, a year after they were gone."

"A year?"

"Yeah," she confirmed. "I went back and forth about it all the time when it happened."

"Really? How so?"

"I was just… really messed up in the head. I still am now."

"Why?"

"I just have a lot of anger," Santana shrugged. She let Brittany take a moment to figure out what she had said. But of course, nothing Santana said could be deciphered that easy.

"Angry to whom?" Brittany asked. Her voice was small. She knew what she was doing. She was poking the bubble. And Santana knew it too.

Santana opened her mouth and closed it again. She wasn't sure why the conversation was turning into Santana 101, but she thought if it could take Brittany's mind off her family for a little while, it's fine. Because Brittany was worth it. She deserved to have a moment where she could just stop pretending to be happy, however short it was.

"You don't have to ans—"

"It's OK. I can answer this one." Santana cut her off. "I was angry to myself, to my dad," she cleared her throat. "I would want a pair of new parents one day, but then I'd hate the idea the next just because," Santana took a deep breath. "Just because I didn't think I deserve them."

Brittany stopped her braiding. "Why?"

Santana shook her head. Her bubble was torn enough and she wasn't about to make the slash bigger. "That's a story for another time, Britt. Not now, sorry. I promised you that I'd be the happy one today, right? Your questions right now aren't helping the cause, so…" Santana finished with an open ending and let her words hand in the air.

Brittany just nodded. If she was disappointed in not getting her answers, she didn't show it.

So Brittany continued what she was doing. She took Santana's hair and made sure she was doing a beautiful job with it. Her friend's long, dark locks? Too gorgeous for her to ruin with deformed braids.

"Can I ask you one more question? I promise it's not about your past."

"Shoot."

"Do you still want it now? Like, do you think you'll ever want it again?"

"Parents? Hm," Santana pondered as Brittany gently took a big strand of Santana's hair and crossed it with another. "N'ah, I don't think so. At least, not anytime soon."

"Because you like it here?" Brittany teased her. "I promise I won't tell anybody."

Santana chuckled. "Honestly? Yeah, I like it here. It's definitely better than the group home, that's for sure. The bed's nice and comfy, I got to share a room with just one person instead of five. Also, killer dinners make Santana a very happy girl."

"What about the people?"

"What about them?"

Brittany shrugged even though Santana couldn't see her. "Do you consider people living in this house as your family? Like, is this home to you?"

"You wanna know the truth?" asked Santana. She tilted her head a little bit to give Brittany access to her hair.

"Of course. Always."

Santana huffed.

"OK. But only because I don't want you to think I'm not doing everything I can to make you happy," she said, holding a finger in the air. "And nobody, I repeat, _nobody_ except me and you can know about this, okay?"

"Okay," Brittany nodded. "Promise."

"Good."

"Yeah."

"Okay."

"Just tell me already," Brittany chuckled. She gently nudged Santana's back with her right leg and Santana lightly smacked her knee for it.

"I think," Santana weighed her answer. "No. I still don't consider this as a family."

"But—"

"Wait, I'm not done," Santana cut her friend off, holding her left hand up so that Brittany shut her mouth immediately. "I still don't consider this as a family, and I don't think this is my _home. _But I honestly think that it's getting really, really close to it."

_Wow_, Santana raised an eyebrow and thought to herself. _So _that's_ what I really feel?_

"That's awesome," Brittany secured Santana's braid with a rubber band and tapped Santana's shoulder to let her know that she was done. "I never thought I'd hear you say that."

"Yeah, well," Santana lightly touched her new hairdo. "You and I both."

"What changed your mind?"

"I don't know," Santana stood up. She sat on the couch, tucking her legs under her and told Brittany to turn around with a wave of her hand. "I just feel that way."

"You love us," Brittany stated with a head turn and a smirk.

"No," Santana quickly answered. "Well, OK. Not 'no' but not 'yes' either."

"Well, which one is it?"

"You're my best friend," Santana answered quickly, not ready for anything remotely close to the L word.

Santana paused for a moment, looking at Brittany who was looking back at her, investigating any concealed bad messages behind Santana's words.

"You're my best friend, and trust me, it's a good thing," Santana repeated with a smile.

_You don't love, you don't get hurt._

Brittany didn't miss the way Santana's walls were slowly building up again. She smiled thinly and nodded. "It's the best thing ever," she told Santana and turned around again so that she could get her hair done.

"God, your hair's so pretty," blurted Santana as soon as the soft golden locks was in her hands.

Santana split up Brittany's hair into two parts and split one of them into three. She loved Brittany's hair. She was sure Brittany would be as luminous as she was even if her hair wasn't blonde, but the bright sheen was just… she didn't even know. There were so many words she could use to describe it, and Brittany, but there wasn't any that would do it justice.

"That sounded so creepy," Brittany told her with a giggle.

Santana smacked Brittany's shoulder. "Shut up," she chuckled. "It's true! I don't know how many shades of blonde there are but yours is the prettiest."

oOoOo

Santana was bored. She looked at the clock on the wall. It was almost 6 and nobody was home yet. Talking to Brittany and spending the whole day with her was awesome and all, but staying at home was not.

If only she hadn't said yes to Emma's plea, they would've been spending the day outside. The redhead was just too paranoid about everything. _'Don't leave Lord Tubbington at home alone, I beg you,' _Emma had said to her this morning — and Santana would've said no if it weren't for that exquisite smell of freshly made pancakes.

_Damn that woman and her culinary skills_, she cursed.

"You're bored, aren't you?"

Santana looked at Brittany with a frown. "_So_ bored. Aren't you?"

"Meh," Brittany shrugged. "A little bit."

"_Just_ a little bit? I'm so ready to make a whole new wardrobe from the curtains right now."

"I don't think Emma would like that," said Brittany in a serious tone.

"I'm not saying that I'm gonna, Britt," Santana crossed her arms.

Brittany exhaled in relief. "Oh, good. Because I've never seen anybody wear curtains before."

Santana blinked a few times. "You've never seen the Sound of Music before?"

"Um," Brittany hesitated. "I didn't know we can see sound…"

"No, Britt," Santana smiled tenderly. Even Brittany's cluelessness was endearing. "It's a movie. The Sound of Music."

"Ooohh," Brittany drawled out her 'oh'. "Is it any good? It sounds fun."

Santana nodded. "Totally! People sing in it. It's old, but it's one of my secret favorite movies. And I got a feeling you'd love it too. It cheers me up, like, always."

"I need that movie now, I think."

Santana nudged Brittany with her shoulder. "Still sad?"

Brittany shrugged. "not as much as before," she huffed. "Now I'm just mostly hungry."

"Ha."

"Yeah, yeah, you can say it," Brittany crossed her arms. "Tell me I shouldn't have given LT my food."

Santana smirked. "Told ya."

She opened her mouth to say something else, but just like that, she was cut by the ringing sound of the telephone.

Brittany got up from the couch. "Next time you cook for us, you need to make some for LT," Brittany said as she walked into the kitchen to get the phone and Santana raised an eyebrow.

"Nuh-uh," Santana made a face. "Never gonna happen."

Santana heard Brittany greet the person on the other side of the telephone line and She decided to busy herself with an extremely boring magazine she found lying around (actually, it was center-aligned neatly on the coffee table). She really couldn't bring herself to understand why in the world would anybody be interested in reading 3.5 pages about yarn organization. But the more she thought about it, the fact that someone would actually do the research _and _write a whole article about it disturbed her more.

Santana flipped the pages and stopped at only the most colorful ones, even if they were made out of random shots ribbons and buttons. Some were actually interesting only because they had DIY stuffed animals and she was thinking about how much Brittany would've loved the plushies.

Speaking of Brittany…

Santana put the magazine down and stretched her neck all the way to take a peek at the kitchen— or at least to listen to what Brittany was doing.

"No, we're fine," she heard Brittany whisper.

_Why is she whispering?_ Santana tilted her head. _Who is she talking to?_

She got up from the couch and started to walk towards the kitchen. She heard vague whispers from Brittany and stopped in her tracks.

"I don't think she likes him." A pause. "Me? Well he's always nice to me so I don't know what to think," Brittany told the person on the phone and took a pause. Santana assumed she was listening to whatever that person was talking about. "What did they say?" Brittany asked and expression changed into something unreadable. "Oh, I see," she spoke again.

By this time Santana's curiosity was way passed piqued. Obviously Brittany was hiding the conversation from her. Or else, she wouldn't have been whispering. So Santana made her steps to the kitchen faster. She made sure to not bump into anything, hoping to not scare Brittany that she would hang up.

But the universe wasn't on her side that day. Her foot accidentally kicked a lamp stand. It didn't make a loud noise, but she had to make sure the lamp was still standing and not on it's way to becoming broken pieces on the floor.

By the time she got to the kitchen, Brittany had already put the phone back to where it belonged.

"Who was it?" Santana asked.

Brittany, who was looking for a cold snack, stood up straight so that she could see the girl who was talking to her from behind the refrigerator door.

"It was Maria," Brittany said, her hand resting on the handle.

"Maria?" asked Santana and the other girl nodded. She took a few steps closer to Brittany. "What did she want?"

Brittany closed the refrigerator door and took a few steps herself, backwards, away from Santana. For some reason, she intimidated her even though she knew Santana wasn't doing it on purpose.

"Nothing," Brittany forced a smile. "She was just calling to tell us that Will and Emma are picking up Puck and they're on their way home. They were at her office. Will forgot his phone. Emma ran out of battery. They'll be home soon."

"Uh-huh," Santana crossed her arms and looked at Brittany suspiciously. Brittany's such a bad liar. "And you guys talked about nothing else? It sure took you a while."

"Nope," Brittany shook her head. "Nothing at all. I gotta go, uh, over there," she pointed at nowhere in particular. "I mean I gotta feed LT."

Santana watched as Brittany turned into this klutz that kept on bumping into things, taking out Lord Tubbington's bowls from the cabinet. _Something's not right_, Santana thought. Brittany, bless her long limbs, was one of the most athletic, most coordinated person she had ever met.

Santana waited until Brittany passed her by to catch her wrist.

"Britt," Santana said, hand firm on Brittany's. "Is something wrong?"

"No," Brittany shook her head, looking at every spot in the house but Santana. "No, no I promise nothing's wrong."

Lies.

But the agreement for that day was that she would let Brittany do whatever it is that she wanted.

"If you say so," said Santana. She slowly let go of Brittany's hand and the latter girl hurriedly, nervously, walked out of the kitchen.

_You don't love, you don't get hurt, _Santana repeated the mantra in her heart.

Over and over and over again.

* * *

><p><em><strong>AN:** Uh-oh._


	11. Favorite

_**A/N:** Woo! More alerts and reviews :D Thank you!_

_Some of your PMs are genius, by the way. Y'all are unicorns!_

_It wasn't my intention to be mysterious at all, so by the end of this chapter I think you'll know where this story is going. Maybe not down to the details but definitely the gist of it._

_**Disclaimer:** I don't own Glee or its characters. I'd propose timeshare if it weren't such a big scam. Kinda like the show._

* * *

><p>Brittany's weeks had been going fast, but sometimes slow too, depending on how many times she had to stay behind to get lectured by the teachers about her 'studying habits'.<p>

Mrs. Williamson, the old math teacher with a gold incisor, turtleneck sweaters and loafers that looked like they were 100 years old, told her to stay behind after almost every class. She would then hand Brittany a piece of paper, most of them were her bad quiz results, and basically talk her down for them.

"_I need you to be smarter, Miss Pierce",_ she would say. _"I won't have slow kids in my class."_

Brittany didn't like what she had to say. It wasn't like she wasn't trying to be better. But numbers were just not something she was good at. She couldn't help it if 2's started to look like ducks and 8s like eggs stacked together— which, by the way, was an extraordinary mental image by itself.

But God bless Mr. Andrews, the Social Studies teacher. He was one of the teachers that both Brittany and Santana actually liked. Maybe it was because he was actually a decent teacher, or maybe because unlike other teachers, he had a reasonable sense of fashion _and_ didn't smell of old cologne. To top it all off, he had a 5-year-old, and it armed him with enough patience to face a thousand middle school students. They're pretty much the same anyway.

Once, Brittany answered a quiz about how a bill becomes a law by using Lord Tubbington and Santana's relationship as an example.

Her answer was two pages long.

But instead of making a complete fool of Brittany in front of the whole class, he actually took his time to read _and_ try to decipher Brittany's way of thinking. He pulled her aside after a class, asked her some questions, and that was it. Even though he didn't give her an A, or a B, she still got a C. And that was more than what most teachers would've given her.

Unfortunately, Mr. Andrews was one in a million. Brittany was having trouble keeping up with the rest of the school staff who weren't as willing to take the extra effort to understand their students.

So Brittany let it go. She spent several days feeling down the first time it happened, but that was it. She got used to patiently, albeit reluctantly, siting on her chair listening to teachers throwing her derogatory comments and threats of failing.

The only consolation she had was Santana, always waiting right outside the door for her after every class, ready to pounce their teachers at her command— in case anybody crossed the line. (Nobody should ever cross whatever line her best friend drew with her Crayolas.)

But no, Brittany would never tell Santana to do it. She didn't like violence. Plus, she wouldn't want Santana to get in trouble because of _her_ problems. So instead of saying yes to Santana's offer, she made her promise to be her tutor.

Santana said yes, of course. And she even said it before Brittany had to pull out her Pouting Powers. She wanted to do it purely for selfish reasons. School without her best friend— without Brittany— would just be an extra layer of hell in that hell hole of a small town.

Despite her whines and groans when it came to going to school, Santana was one of the kids at the top of their class. But to be honest, it wasn't the main reason why Brittany asked her to be her tutor. Yes, it was easy for Santana to understand how things work, but more importantly, she knew how the cogs in Brittany's head work. Consequently, she knew how to explain things in colors and shapes in a way that Brittany would comprehend.

oOoOo

"_I can't do this," Brittany said one night, putting her pen down, exasperated at the same damn page on her Ancient Civilizations book that she had been staring at for at least half an hour._

"_Yes you can, Brittany. Come on." Santana urged her, picking up the pen and holding it up again so that Brittany would take it from her hands._

"_Brittany shook her head. "It's no use, Santana. I can't memorize it. I don't understand what these words mean."_

_Santana pushed the book with her finger on one corner so that it would face her. "Britt," she said after reading the page. "OK. They kinda _are_ big words. But you got no choice. You need to memorize it for the test tomorrow."_

"_How am I supposed to remember anything if I can't even understand them? Why can't there be a test about Alice in Wonderland. Or Finding Nemo or whatever? I'd totally get an A for that," Brittany huffed and slumped, resting her chin on the desk. "Why can't there be a class about Disney movies and fairy tales? Why can't we read storybooks instead? I'm good with that."_

_Santana smiled widely. She turned off the lamp on the desk and pulled Brittany up. _

"_Come on," she said as she dragged Brittany across the room to her bed with a grin. "Make yourself comfortable."_

"_But," Brittany looked at her confused, but she climbed up her bed anyway. "Didn't you just say I need to study?"_

"_Oh, we're still going to study," Santana said, walking back to the desk and picked up the book. "But we're going to study the Brittany way. I'm going to read you a bedtime story."_

"_I don't see how that'll help me at all, Santana."_

"_I'm going to read you Greek mythology bedtime stories, silly!" Santana grinned proudly and climbed up into her own bed. "I'll just sub all the hard words as I tell them to you. That way, we can both learn at the same time."_

"_You'd do that for me?"_

"_Of course," Santana smiled as she shrugged. "Why wouldn't I?"_

_Brittany sat up on her bed and brought her knees to her chest. "You're my favorite, you know that Santana?" She smiled back, resting the left side of her head on the pillow she had put between her knees and chest. "You're my favorite."_

oOoOo

Brittany got a B for that mythology test, and a lot of other tests for subjects that allowed Santana to tell her reworked bedtime stories. You'd be surprise how very entertaining metamorphosis could be, what with Santana giving all the caterpillars and butterflies in the book fake voices.

The rest of them? Well… let's just say that if they weren't taught by Mr. Andrews, they played a prominent part in making Brittany's weeks less pleasant than what she had hoped for.

Sometimes all she wanted to do was to just talk back.

And she almost did, once, during an after school special with the chemistry teacher. She was that close to slam her hand onto the desk and just be… mad. Real mad. She wanted yell at them that maybe— just maybe— they were the ones who needed to start teaching better, instead of nagging her to be smarter.

"You should try it," shrugged Santana when Brittany told her about her frustration. The girls were spending the rest of the night reading old editions of teen magazines given by a neighbor who ran the local grocery.

"Maybe it'll feel good," Santana added.

"Will it?"

Santana shrugged again. "Maybe. I don't know. Maybe you won't like it, maybe you will. I'm just saying that sometimes you need to stand up for yourself. I can't be there all the time."

Brittany blinked and looked at Santana wordlessly. Her hand faltered from flipping a page. Had she been a burden to Santana all this time? Was she annoyed that she had to stick around every day after school?

She brought her eyes down and looked at the magazine page opened before her. There in a bold, pink letters: _Are You a Good Friend? Get your score and find out!_

Brittany traced the words with her hands.

Maybe she wasn't.

Friends don't weigh their friends down. Especially not _best _friends.

"Whatever you're thinking, stop it."

The voice startled Brittany and she looked up to the owner.

Santana wasn't even looking at her when she continued. "I didn't mean it that way," she said as she closed her magazine.

"I don't know what you're talking about," Brittany shook her head.

Santana took off the elastic band on her hair just to tie it up again into a tight ponytail. "Well," she said. "I know what _you're_ thinking about. And you need to stop. I wasn't saying that I'm annoyed or anything. And I certainly don't feel like you're a weight I need to carry around."

"I don't think you can carry me, Santana," replied Brittany seriously.

Santana smiled to Brittany's simplicity. "How would you know? I've never even tried. You'd be surprised with my hidden powers."

Brittany huffed. "I wish there was a power to make me smarter."

"Why would you want that kind of power?" asked Santana. "You already are."

"Yeah, right," Brittany scoffed. "Tell that to the teachers."

"Well, I would if you'd let me," Santana smirked. But then she put on her serious face again. "No, seriously Britt. You already are smart. Maybe not in the same subjects as other people, but you're definitely smart. You got a lot of B's for your tests—"

"You helped me."

"By telling you the stories once, Brittany. Once," Santana raised a finger. "Do you know how many times I had to read those pages before I got them in my head? Probably 20 times. I wish _I_ had your brain."

"You won't like it."

"Why?"

"Because it gets D's and F's in everything else."

"So?" Santana walked over to Brittany's bed and sat on the edge. "Some people are good with numbers, and some people aren't. Some people play the piano, some people play guitar. Nobody said you have to be good at everything, Brittany."

"When you're in school, you kinda have to be."

"Well," Santana rubbed the back of her neck, giving it a little massage after stretching it. "That's kind of true. But my point is… don't sell yourself short. You are smart, Brittany," she looked at Brittany pointedly. "You are smart, and you are smart enough to want to be smarter."

"Um," Brittany scratched her ear. "I think I'm confused."

"What I mean is that you don't give up," Santana smiled. "Look at you. Those teachers tear you down, but you keep coming to school. You keep trying to get good grades, and that's _smart_ to me. A lot of losers would've just… I don't know. Quit school… sell drugs… you know? A lot of the older kids in the group home ended up living in the streets because they didn't want to go to school even when they had the option to go."

"I guess…"

"And plus you know loads of things that people don't. Cats, for example— even though sometimes it's scary how much you know about them," said Santana, unsuccessfully avoiding a pillow thrown to her face. "So you can't say that you're not."

Brittany pursed her lips. Santana _did_ have a point.

"And," Santana added. "If I didn't want to help you, or wait for you after school or whatever… you _know_ I'd tell you. I wouldn't be hanging around if I thought you were trouble."

Santana handed Brittany the pillow that she threw and jumped out of the bed at the same time. "Just… you know, I'm here and stuff and stuff."

Brittany laughed at her friend's choice of words. "This conversation's too soft for you, Santana?"

"That's all the cheese I could handle in one night," Santana laughed back. She turned off the lights and climbed into her own bed. "Night, Britt."

"Night," Brittany fluffed her pillow and whispered a thank you to the other girl before she fell into a sound sleep that night, her mind light from Santana's lovely words.

oOoOo

"Hey girls," Mercedes tapped Brittany from behind. Of course, the plural word was intended for both the blonde and her best friend who was always there with her during classes, or at the lockers.

"What's up, Cedes?" Santana eyed the girl. There was something off about her and it showed through her outfit. Mercedes was known for her 'loud' wardrobe. Everything she wore was a statement— contrasting colors, prints, big hair— but in a good way. She let her attitude carry the outfit, instead of letting them take her over.

"You look like you haven't had tater tots for a week," Brittany stated simply, and Santana internally applaud her for always knowing what to say.

Mercedes scoffed. "Try two."

Brittany's eyes widened. "What? Are you serious? But they're your favorite."

"Yeah, well," Mercedes crossed her arms. "Apparently my mom read somewhere that too much oily food would affect my brain power. She said I needed to cut back."

"Is that even legit?" Santana asked. She didn't like tots that much but she had to admit, she felt a little bit threatened by that piece of information.

Mercedes shook her head weakly. "I don't even know. I don't have the energy to look it up. All I know is that it feels like I'm losing a part of me."

"Wow, someone's being overly melodramatic," Santana rolled her eyes. "It's just food."

"Shut it, Santana. I'm serious," Mercedes scowled. "You don't know how it feels to be losing one of your favorite things."

"That's not true, Mercedes," Brittany quickly refuted before Santana had a chance to lose her temper. "We know how it feels."

"You're right," Mercedes held both her hands up. "I'm sorry. I'm sorry Britt, Santana. I know my problem right now sounds shallow compared to your life, but it doesn't mean that it doesn't suck. And I totally have the right to be melodramatic."

"Well," Santana started talking under Brittany's subtle threat of sporting a pout and puppy eyes. Well, that and she was suddenly reminded of the promise she had made to herself on the first day of school to be extra nicer to Mercedes. "While losing a favorite food item is nothing like losing your whole life, I can understand the emotional regression. Whatever, Cedes. I'm sorry too."

With exchanged smiles, the three of them turned around and walked away from the lockers. They had English in about 3 minutes, and the teacher wasn't going to let them sit in peace if they were late.

"So why did your mom say you're losing brain power?" Brittany asked.

"I got a C at math."

"You got a C and she banned you from tots?"

"Yep, that's what happened."

"Man," Santana shook her head. "What would she do if you got an F?"

"Whoa. I don't even want to think about that. She'd probably lecture me about how hard my dad's working to provide for me, about how I should repay them by studying," Mercedes shrugged. "And ban me from tots for the rest of my life."

"Harsh," Santana said and Brittany was quick to parrot.

Mercedes huffed. "I know."

oOoOo

"Can I come in?"

Will looked up from the papers he was grading. He smiled at the blonde girl peeping through the office door. "Brittany," he smiled. He could really use the break from scribbling letters on his students' tests. "Yeah, sure! Come in!"

Brittany straightened up her posture and walked towards Will's desk. He pointed to a chair set in front of it, and she plopped down. "This chair's pretty," she stated. "Not very comfortable, though."

Will laughed. He loved how honest Brittany was. True, sometimes she could be confusing. Other times, however, her comments were like one of those teddy bears that smelt like mint. Fresh and adorable at the same time. That was how Emma described it.

"I bought that at a flea market," he answered. When he saw Brittany made a face, he clarified. "They don't sell actual fleas, Brittany. People there sell really old stuff that they don't want anymore."

Brittany made an 'O' with her mouth and nodded understandingly. A little bit relieved that the chair she was sitting on was not sold alongside of fleas in little cages, but also felt a little bit disappointed. She had always wanted to see a flea circus. Or, better yet, run a flea circus. There were times where she would get lost in her thoughts of collecting Lord Tubbington's fleas, train them, and get them to do somersaults while pulling a cardboard shopping cart.

But no. Brittany wouldn't do that to her animals.

"Brittany?" called Will to the girl sitting in front of her. "Brittany, are you OK?"

Brittany blinked. Will's voice brought her back to the present.

"Yeah," she smiled. "I was just imagining what it would be like being a ringmaster."

"A ringmaster?"

"Yeah," Brittany nodded. "Wouldn't it be cool?"

Will smiled. "Totally," he said. Mint scented teddy bears indeed. "You can sit there as long as you want, Brittany. But uh, if you need to talk to me… do you mind if I finished grading these papers first?"

While trying to find a more comfortable sitting position, Brittany shook her head.

"No, go ahead," she said. She really didn't mind. She didn't have anything to do. Emma was crocheting; Puck was busy with her guitar in his locked room. Neither of them needed her help.

Santana? She went to the park and had specifically asked to be left alone. Brittany obliged. Who could blame Santana for wanting some quality time with herself? After spending so much time with Brittany, showing her left and right, helping her study, spellchecking her homework and all that, Santana deserved some freedom.

Besides, Santana would tell her if there was a riff between the two of them, wouldn't she? She would never lie to her, right?

_Yeah_, Brittany thought. _She wouldn't. She's not me._

Brittany stretched her neck, looking around the room. It wasn't a big room. In fact, she remembered it being a little bit bigger the first time she saw it. But then she realized that there were more piles of papers on top of Will's desk and more boxes stacked on the floor.

She watched as Will repeatedly ran his fingers through his curly hair before giving a student a grade. It was funny. He would start writing with his Sharpie, but then stop after the first stroke. Then he would sigh and adjusted that stroke into what Brittany guessed was a higher grade. B to B+, to A even. He just couldn't bear to fail a student.

Although now that she thought about it, didn't it mean he was letting his student pass the class without understanding the subject? Didn't it mean he was a bad teacher?

"You know, it's so hard for me to give a D," Will chuckled and put aside the last sheet of exam paper. "Every time I go to write it down, I just…" he shook his head. "A part of me dies inside whenever I think about the kids who actually put the effort into the test."

"What do you do then?"

"I give them a C," he shrugged. He stretched his arms up to relief some fatigue. "And then I write some words to encourage them to do better."

"Isn't that kind of like cheating?" asked Brittany with a frown on her face. "Only reversed?"

"Well, I guess you _can_ see it from that point of view," he twirled the pen in his hand, sporting a sad smile on his face. "I just don't want to see the disappointment in their faces, in their parents' faces. I just can't do it."

Brittany bit her lip. "What about me?" she whispered. "What about my grades? Are you disappointed in me?"

"Brittany," Will gave her a soft smile. He leaned back on his chair. "Is that why you're here?"

Brittany shrugged. "Maybe."

"Well you can relax," he chuckled. "I'm not disappointed in you."

"Are you just saying this because you're my foster parent? If you were, like, I don't know… If I were your daughter, would you still say the same?"

"Ah," Will nodded his head. "I know what this is about. And I'm going to be very honest with you, OK?" he intertwined his fingers and brought his hands behind his head. Brittany carefully nodded.

"I would be lying if I didn't say that I would love for you to get better grades," he started and Brittany automatically looked down to where her feet were. "But I know you're trying, Brittany. I know that you've asked Santana to help you with your studies, and you've been doing all your homework as best as you can. Frankly? That's more than enough for me. And if you were my daughter, I'd still feel the same."

"Really?"

"Of course!" Will smiled.

"What about, uh," Brittany brought her hand up to start biting her nails, but pulled it back down. Santana wouldn't have liked it if she were there. "What about real parents? I mean, not _my_ parents because they're not here anymore… but what about, you know… adoptive parents?"

Will gave a thought to his answer. "Well, if someone adopted a child, then they should be ready to treat them how any parents would treat their biological children," a pause. "What do _you_ think? Would your parents be mad at you?"

"My dad never got angry about my grades." Brittany shrugged. "My mom would get upset sometimes, but never angry. She'd remind me to keep trying, and they always told me that there will always be other things that are more important than school grades."

"And there are," Will agreed. When he finally saw Brittany's whole pose relaxed, he continued. "They sound like wonderful people. "

Brittany pursed her lip and nodded. "They were awesome."

The conversation was interrupted by a loud noise coming from Will's phone. He excused himself and picked it up.

Immediately, right after Will greeted the person on the other end of the line, Brittany knew it was a serious matter. He's demeanor changed. There was a heaviness both in his voice and the way his chest was going up and down from breathing. One-word answers, a lot of huffing, a few times of running his hand through his hair.

Yep. Definitely serious.

Will didn't get out of the room, though. He didn't step away from Brittany for one bit. Instead, he kept glancing at her as he spoke into the phone. Brittany wondered if there was a chance the phone call concerned her.

He stayed on the line for a few minutes, and when he hung up the phone, he stayed quiet. Brittany watched him. She was waiting for him to start talking again and he knew about it.

Yet he took his time, rearranging folders on his desk, putting back the red and blue markers into the container. Brittany thought it was as if he was preparing himself for something bad. And she hoped with all her might that it wasn't something bad.

It wasn't until he set another beige folder that he took out from the drawer on his desk. He took a second to look at it. Then he looked up and met Brittany's eyes.

"That was Maria," he exhaled.

_Oh, so it _was_ about me,_ Brittany played with the hem of her shirt.

"I need to give these back to her tomorrow, Brittany. Or at least this weekend. But I need it to be your decision before I sign," he said, pointing at the idle folder and Brittany took a few other deep breaths. She knew exactly what he was talking about.

"I could just put this back into the drawer, if you want," he asked. Upon watching Brittany's expression changed from emotion to emotion, he hesitated.

"No," Brittany's voice stopped his hands from grabbing the folder.

"No?"

Brittany shook her head. "No," she confirmed. "You can sign it."

That night when Santana was telling her a story about a war that happened in ancient Egypt, Brittany got out of her bed and climbed onto Santana's and tucked herself in as best as she could. They were getting bigger and the bed seemed to be getting smaller.

"Britt?" Santana looked at her best friend who was covered with the blanket up to her neck. "Is everything alright? Do you wanna stop? I mean, the test isn't until Thursday so we still have ti—."

"I'm sorry, Santana."

Santana was confused. Brittany was sorry? Sorry for what?

Santana closed the book she was reading out loud and put it aside on her nightstand. "What's this about?" she asked. "Is this about me helping you study again? Because I've told you bef—"

"Just," Brittany cut her off. "For everything. You've been _so_ good to me, and I can't do the same for you."

"What are you talking about? Seriously, Britt. You usually confuse me with random things, but this is super confusing," Santana scrunched her face.

"Sorry, it's nothing. I'm just tired," Brittany turned around and pretended to yawn. But before Santana made a comment about how she wasn't fooling anybody, Brittany spoke again. "You know," she started. "If I'm ever to leave this house, I'm going to miss you the most."

It was the way that Brittany said it— like she was blowing an invisible horn that had the power to stop a football game— that made Santana let go. She knew she wasn't going to get anything else than that. So she settled with switching off the lights. She fluffed her pillow and lowered herself until she was lying down on the mattress.

A few seconds passed and Santana used it to stare at the ceiling before she finally (thought that she had) figured it all out. Maria's phone call several weeks ago, Brittany randomly bringing up the subject of parents. It all became somewhat clear.

She just wished Brittany would've told her about the whole ordeal.

Then again, she wasn't one to complain. Brittany had let her keep all of her secrets hers. So she would do the same.

"And _I_ would miss _you_," Santana whispered. "Cause you're my favorite, too."

* * *

><p><em><strong>AN:** Thoughts?_


	12. Promises

_**A/N:** Wow... didn't realize that it took me almost a month to write this chapter. Sorry. Real life got in the way. But I hope you're still reading this. Also, I'd love some feedback if you could give me it :) :)_

_Thank you for the alerts & faves, guys! I know I'm not the best storyteller out there so that means a lot. like, a lot, a lot, a lot. :)_

_P.S. Santana sings in this chapter. I really wanna hear Naya's voice singing a stripped down version of that song.._

* * *

><p>Summer faded into fall easy like a marble rolling effortlessly down into a hole, leaving nothing but a memory of its streaks of colors. Bright colored t-shirts hidden underneath subdued hues of jackets and coats, and the green outdoors is now orange. Beautiful still, but an air of gloom could be felt even though it wasn't a sad season in particular.<p>

"Do you know who it is?" Santana turned on the basement light and started walking down the stairs. It was laundry day for both girls and they each got a basket in their hands.

"Doug," Brittany held her breath almost immediately after answering.

"Oh," Santana blinked. "Wow. OK…"

Brittany set her basket on top of a makeshift folding station that Will had built for Emma with Max and Puck.

"How long have you known," Santana cleared her throat, "that he was going to adopt you?"

Brittany bit her lip. She already knew Santana wouldn't like the answer. Then again, it was her fault for keeping it so long from Santana, so she figured she should just come clean.

"I've known since about… the first month of school," she quietly said, looking at anything but Santana. "But like, nothing was settled or anything. Sometimes he'd call me to the principal's office and ask me questions and stuff."

"And you didn't tell me? Why didn't you tell me?"

"You don't like him."

"Brittany," Santana slammed her basket down. "The man went out of his way to tell a 12-year-old that she's pretty! Now you tell me if I shouldn't be suspicious of him! But believe it or not, that's not my problem right now. My problem is that if you had told me about this sooner, I wouldn't be disliking you as much as I do right now."

Santana opened the dryer with a little more strength that she should've. The machine door slammed into the wall and Brittany cringed.

"You hate me?" asked Brittany carefully hoping for a no, not being really sure of what Santana's saying about their friendship. But all she got in return was Santana transferring dry clothes into her basket without saying a word. The way her jaws were tightened, though, scared Brittany enough to make her bring her basket to her front, just like a shield. Brittany watched (and shrieked a little bit) as Santana snatched it away to use it to collect the rest of their clothes. Then she watched some more as the latter girl, obviously not interested in talking, wordlessly stomped out of the basement with one batch of their finished laundry, leaving her with the other basket with dry clothes and the most unpleasant feeling ever.

Santana was already gone from the house when Brittany got out from the basement. Her laundry basket was set on the bed with everything still in it, and looking at the closet door that was left ajar, Brittany knew Santana just couldn't wait to get out of the house.

At dinner, however, Santana poured water into Brittany's glass before she did it for herself. Then she proceeded to link their pinkies under the table to let Brittany know that the answer for her question earlier was a 'no'. Brittany was so overwhelmed with relief that, for a moment, she forgot to breathe.

A second later, seeing that Brittany's eyes were glassy, Emma asked her if there was something wrong. "There's just something in my eyes," Brittany told her as she wiped her eyes.

oOoOo

"_She's leaving," Santana sighed with her back against the tree. Her first visit in a couple of month. She blamed it on school that had been keeping her busy, but really, deep down inside she knew it was Brittany that kept her from going back to her previous state of being the Unabomber's child prodigy. And she was thankful for it._

"_I always knew she would— parents love her type. I mean, look at her. She's pretty, blonde… Always smiling, always happy. Totally, exactly, completely the opposite of me."_

_Santana picked up a brown leaf from the ground and traced the edges with her fingers. All dry and rough. _

"_They all leave you too, huh?" Santana looked up to her linden's branches and gave the tree a pat. "See? Told you we got a lot in common."_

"_You know, it's been years since it happened, you'd think I would be okay about not having anything. You'd think I wouldn't be jealous anymore," she put a strand of hair behind her ear and regretted her decision of not wearing a headband on that windy day. "I thought so too. And I really thought I was making progress."_

_The park was quiet. Now that it was colder, there weren't many children around. The normally packed playground almost looked like it was deserted. Only 2 boys were still hanging from the monkey bars, and even they were going home in a matter of minutes; their mothers giving each other a hug near the swings._

_When the two little boys jumped off the bars and ran to their respective mothers, Santana felt the corners of her mouth go up. She tolerated these kinds of things better when there weren't a million kids running around. But when she saw one of the boy stretched his hand and reached to hold his mother's, Santana finally turned her gaze another way._

_She dropped the leaf that she was holding and looked at her hand. It was empty and alone. No other hand around it. No fingers wrapping it with love, pulling it gently, telling her that it's time to go home. _

_It hurt. _

"_I want to be happy for her, I really do. I just… that noise in my head… I can't make it stop. And why should I be the only one hearing it? It's not fair," Santana huffed. _

_A pause. A strong wind. A leaf from a neighboring tree blown onto her face. _

_She chuckled, but she let that leaf stay in its spot. "You know what? Maybe it wouldn't be that great for her. Like, maybe Doug and his wife collects dead birds or something. And they'd have a pet pig that shits all over the living room. Then they'd deem his house unfit for a child, then she'd have to come back."_

_She laughed at the silliness of the scene she was in. The leaf covering her eyes, the fact that she was again venting to a tree, Brittany getting adopted, her not being happy about Brittany getting adopted… _

_But most of all, she laughed at the silly tears running down her face._

"_I just want someone to not leave me for once," she removed the obnoxious leaf that was keeping her from wiping her eyes with the back of her hands._

oOoOo

Santana had been going to her linden in the park more and more and Brittany knew she was partly responsible for it. So Brittany had been spending a lot of her time sitting on the porch watching the leaves fall, waiting for Santana to come back, because, aside from worrying about their friendship, it was all she could do.

Yes, she _could_ help Emma with the house, but Emma already carefully, politely, lovingly banned her from helping out ever since Brittany wiped the coffee table with the wrong cloth. She _could _help Will out tidying up his office, but she made a mistake once and reordered the stacks of paper on his desk based on his students' handwritings (Brittany, of course, appreciated the ones with hearts over their i's more than the ones that looked like tall, untrimmed grass, and made a neat pile out of all of them). _"It's the Pretty Pile,"_ she told Will, and the man only responded with a deep sigh.

But being there on the porch when to greet Santana with a smile seemed more important than anything. She didn't even budge when Puck started teasing her, saying that she was such a old woman, sitting out in the porch. It didn't matter.

She did, however, gave him a little kiss on the cheek when he came back bringing her a blanket. "Don't worry so much, Britt," he gave her head a pat before walking back into the house. "She'll be okay."

Brittany smiled at him, hoping so much that it was true. It had been a couple of weeks already since their argument in the basement, and even though Santana had indirectly _and_ directly told her that she doesn't hate her, Brittany still couldn't shake away the unpleasant feeling resting in the bottom of her stomach.

Not long after Puck had gone back inside, Brittany felt a sudden urge to look towards the end of the street and she was glad she surrendered to that urge. Santana was there, walking, if not dragging her feet, towards the house with both her hands in her pockets.

The thing about Santana was that no matter how hard she restrained herself from saying too many words, her body language still showed what she was feeling. Always very subtle— a micro smile, slumping her shoulders down a few degrees— and most people would've missed them, but she was completely readable for Brittany. From what she was seeing from that porch Santana could use a hug or two, and she would gladly give her a million if only she hadn't promised Santana to never poke her bubble unless she was asked to.

"Hey," Santana lazily waved her left hand as she walked up the steps. Her right was still tucked safely in her pocket.

"Hi," Brittany greeted back. "How was the park?"

"Was okay," said Santana. "What are you doing out in the porch?"

"You keep asking that question every time. I'm waiting for you, silly," Brittany told her friend honestly. "Are you cold?" she asked. She noticed the way Santana's knees were shaking after a hard wind blew their way. She knew Santana only has one layer of clothing underneath her jacket— it's a Santana's thing, to never wear too many things and be bulky.

"I don't mind getting warmer. Scoot over," the darker girl pointed to the bench that Brittany was sitting on and Brittany did what she was told.

Brittany opened her arm; effectively stretching the blanket that Puck had given her. "Told you a layer's never enough," she said pointedly. Santana jokingly glared at her before she accepted Brittany's invitation to share the warmth.

They sat there in silence for a while, watching the sky turn darker, enjoying the quiet. A pick-up truck drove past their street and they watched it turn into a driveway. A neighbor coming home from walking their dog waved at them and Brittany waved back while Santana gave them a simple smile before closing her eyes, letting the wind gently sweep her face. To think that just months before, she wouldn't have given that neighbor the time of day. Probably would even flip them the bird when they weren't looking.

It was unfair for Santana that people only seemed to notice how _she_ had helped Brittany with her schoolwork, but never mentioned at how much Brittany had helped _her. _Okay, maybe a handful of people noticed it. She was sure that at least Emma, Will and Puck noticed the difference between the old Santana and _this_ Santana. Mercedes, the girl at school, too. She came up to Santana one day and made a comment about how she had grown… calmer? And happier, almost. Yeah, that was what she told her.

Everybody else had the perceived notion that Brittany was the one needing help. Every time a teacher commended her for doing a great job with tutoring Brittany (because apparently, none of them thought it was worth the effort in the first place), all she wanted to do was to stomp on their foot, just like what she did to Jacob. But she never did, because those idiots didn't know that she owed Brittany an obscene amount of gratitude. Brittany stuck by her, even though she was repeatedly shoved away, and practically dragged her out from a dark, dark corner.

So she had been rethinking about the whole situation. Being alone in the park, surrounded by fallen leaves and silence really helped clear her mind. The first time she came back to her linden, Santana spent more than just a few minutes crying over the fact that a) Brittany was leaving her, and b) nobody wanted her. It was as if she was thrown back to the state that she was right after her father committed suicide.

It was never a good feeling, feeling rejected.

But that same afternoon, when she was finding excuses to hate Brittany, she couldn't find any. Like she had said before, nobody in the world could ever hate the blonde girl. She was just too faultless. Precious, in a way, like some rare thing that was impossible to find even if you go to the edges of the world.

That night at the dinner table, when she saw the relief on Brittany's face _and _the tears pooling in her eyes as she poured her a glass of water, Santana felt really bad about the fight and immediately made a promise to herself to work out her feelings. And yes, that might've caused her to go visit her tree more often (just like today), but it was definitely better than lashing out to Brittany.

Puck popped his head from the door to tell them that dinner's going to be thirty minutes late because they're waiting for a guest and both girls tensed.

"I didn't realize it was today," mumbled Brittany. She brought her hand to her mouth to start chewing on her fingernails, but Santana caught it halfway. She stood up and pulled Brittany with her.

"Come on," Santana said. "Let's get changed. I'll even braid your hair if you want."

"Santana…"

"Come on, Britt," she repeated. "Don't you want to look nice in front of mister daddy-to-be?"

"I thought you didn't like Doug…"

"I didn't. I still don't," Santana admitted. "But you're my best friend and I'm happy for you. I'm not going to ruin this for you. How many times do I need to tell you that?"

"I know, but—"

"You know, I really don't want to leave," Brittany said quietly, keeping her eyes on the street in front of them. "Can't they adopt me but let me live here?"

Santana turned her head and chuckled. "I don't think so, Britt."

"I just… I don't wanna leave you behind."

"We'll still see each other at school, won't we?"

"Well yeah," Brittany nodded. "But it won't be the same. We won't be roommates anymore. We won't even be housemates."

"Brittany," Santana sighed and looked straight into Brittany's blue eyes. "We still got, what? A month before you move out? Probably less, depending on the paperwork. But anyway. Let's not think about the bad things. Let's just be… I don't know… Happy? How 'bout that?"

Brittany bit her lip and looked at their joined hands. She felt a squeeze that prompted her to look back at the girl standing in front of her.

"Okay," she squeezed back and Santana smiled at her before she pulled her into the house.

oOoOo

"So there we were, Nancy and I, sitting at the wrong church, cheering for the wrong wedding, all because she misread the invitation," Doug laughed maniacally. Loudly. "Can you believe that?"

"That's hilarious," Will politely laughed along, taking a glance to the smiling (more like grimacing, really), but obviously uncomfortable woman sitting next to Doug.

"I'm tellin' ya," the burly man wiped his mouth with the napkin. "My wife's just," he moved his hand over the top of his head and made a whooshing noise before he continued laughing.

Santana didn't like his gesture and the way he made the blonde woman next to him shift in her seat, and she wasn't the only one. From the corner of her eyes, she could see Puck's jaw tightened even though he tried to mask it by pretending to be cutting his steak.

"Maybe you should start reading things for yourself then," Santana mumbled into her glass of water and that earned her a soft kick to the shin from someone's foot. She thought it was Brittany's at first, but then she noticed Emma's pursed lips across the table and rolled her eyes.

"Hm? What's that?" Doug asked as he chewed.

Santana smiled her sweetest smile and it actually made her sick to her stomach. "Nothing," she said. "I said, 'glad you haven't handed them your wedding presents'."

Doug went back to his roaring laughter and swung his arm back, landing it on his wife's shoulder. Nancy flinched, but it was so subtle that the smile on her face hid her reaction well.

"That's me, alright," Nancy said, cautiously patting the hand resting on her shoulder with a half smile that didn't reach her eyes. "Somehow I always manage to do everything wrong."

"You're just like me, then," Brittany suddenly said. "I do everything wrong too. But I'm lucky because Santana's awesome and she tells me every time I mess up."

"Oh?" Nancy tilted her head.

Santana smiled shyly and shook her head. "It's nothing."

"No, what do you mean it's nothing," Brittany touched Santana's arm to stop her from talking. "She even helped me with my grades," she told the table. "I've been making big improvements. I get Bs now instead of Ds."

"It's true," Emma excitedly jumped in. Her doe eyes twinkled in the light that Santana internally cringed at them. Emma was practically a character out of a storybook.

"Santana makes a good tutor," Emma continued, smiling ear to ear at everyone at the table. "We're very proud of them both. And Noah too, of course."

"Wow," Nancy smiled at the girls. "That _is _wonderful. You're lucky to have her."

Brittany beamed. "Santana's my best friend," she said proudly. Then, after mulling over the thought in her head, she added a question. In her mind it was really worth the shot. "Can't you take both of us? Like, adopt us at the same time?"

Santana's eyes widened at Brittany's question. She really wasn't expecting that.

"Brittany," Will said to the teenager gently, but pointedly.

"What? Did I say something wrong?"

"Honey, I don't think that's how it works," Emma gently told her. "It's not that easy," she looked at the guests apologetically.

"But," Brittany looked to her right, where Santana is sitting, and scrunched her eyebrows. "But why?"

"It's a long process, Brittany," Doug answered. "I know it seemed simple— that all we have to do is sign papers— but the truth is, it's far more complicated than that. We even had to pull some strings for _this_ to happen."

"Well… you did it for me. Why couldn't you do it for her?

Santana looked down to her plate and brushed a strand of hair to the back of her ears. A part of her was disgusted at the idea of living in the same house as one mister Doug Geoffrey. The man was still number one in her list of _So Wrong, Just Wrong _people even though she _still_ didn't have a solid excuse.

The other part, however, really hoped that he would actually say yes. That he would submit another application of adoption for her. That she would get to call sometwo her parents, and that she would share them with Brittany.

But the universe didn't work that way.

The adults around the table shared glances with one another and Santana knew what she had always known before. Who was she kidding? Nobody wanted her. It hurt, but it was the truth. For once Brittany's Pouting Powers was unsuccessful. The Geoffreys weren't going to whisk her away from the Schuesters' residence. Not when they already got a perfect daughter-to-be.

So silence dominated the room for a few moments. Nobody at the table answered Brittany's question— none of them really knew how to do it— and Santana knew it was her time to jump in. "No, Britt," she said. "Let's be real. You don't want to share parents with me. I'd just hog them," she told Brittany with a smile and a hand on her shoulder.

Brittany thought Santana's answer was ridiculous. They had been sharing almost everything since she first joined the household— aside from the first few weeks when Santana was giving her a hard time. And those weeks were pale in comparison to the many days and occasions when Santana practically dropped everything that she was doing for Brittany. Or at least changed the way things worked so that they would accommodate her.

Brittany was about to reopen her mouth to say something and object when she saw the look in Santana's eyes. It said '_please drop this, Brittany,_' and she complied. She reached over for the gravy boat and offered it to Doug who seemed to be the one enjoying his dinner the most.

"More gravy?" Brittany asked, pointing to the dry parts of his steak, and just like that, the atmosphere in the dining room turned back to normal.

oOoOo

The night ended with the Schuester household waving goodbye to the couple leaving their street in a fancy white convertible. Santana thought it couldn't get any tackier. She had watched enough reruns of the Brady Bunch. But she put on a smile on her face and waved anyway.

_All for Brittany, _she thought and she wouldn't have done it for anybody else.

Brittany volunteered to clean up. Emma had worked all afternoon for the dinner that was intended for her, so that was the least she could do. Emma politely refused at first, saying that she didn't want to tire them out, but somehow Will managed to convince Emma to let the kids take care of the mess that is the dining room. It took her a lot of cringing and many nervous 'are you sure's but she ended up going upstairs to their room anyway. But she squeezed in a plea to Santana to not hesitate to knock on the door if they needed anything. Santana only gave her little nods, but that was enough for Emma. Their relationship had grown significantly better for Emma to trust Santana, and vice versa.

Brittany, knowing that Emma was very particular about her fancy table cloths and liners, went to take them to the laundry room and made sure she put the right amount of detergent (she made sure she read Emma's laminated instructions that was taped to the wall next to the washing machine). Besides, she knew she was better off handling fabric than fragile china. Santana would take care of them.

Santana cleared the table from the plates and gave them to Puck, because he decided that he was going to do the dishes. Funnily enough, he was really good at it. He also seemed to be enjoying the chore, whistling a tune or even humming the words to some classic rock tunes as he scrubbed and rinsed.

"So," Puck kick started the conversation from the sink. The running water and the fact that Santana was still roaming the other room, made him speak louder. "What do you think?"

"I still don't like him," Santana replied; walking into the kitchen with a glass she had found lying around on a table in the foyer. She was sure it was Doug's, because except for him and his wife (and Nancy was pretty much off the hook since she seemed to have better manners than her husband), nobody would've ever brought a glass of red wine out there. Not to mention without a coaster. That would cost Emma three good night slumbers thinking about the madness.

Santana was met with a pair of eyes looking strangely at her and she rolled her eyes. "What? I don't. Seriously, I can't be the only one here who saw how weird their interaction was. You saw it, right? Or heard it or whatever since you couldn't get your mug away from your plate. You ate like a caveman. Which makes perfect sense considering how you look."

"Yeah, I saw it," Puck glared at Santana, not happy about how she was mocking him. In his defense, it was the best steak he had ever had in a really long time.

"And?" she pressed. She took out zipper bags from the drawer and started to pack the leftovers. When she didn't hear Puck say anything, she presed again. "Come on. Be honest. I saw your reactions tonight. You looked like you were ready to bite his head o—"

"OK, fine! I think he could've treated his wife better," he cut her off. "But maybe that's just how it is with him?"

"That doesn't make it any better, dumbass," she hissed. She heard the sound of a door being shut and lowered her voice. "Puck, Nancy flinched. She freakin' flinched when he put his hand on her shoulder. That's not normal. I'm telling you, he's bad news!"

"Well what are you gonna do about it, Santana?" Puck asked exasperatedly, voice as low as his speaking opponent. "You wanna tell Britt to _not _be a Geoffrey based on some ridiculous notion? You can't do that, it'll crush her."

"I know," Santana huffed.

"Maybe," Puck said to her carefully. "Maybe you're just jealous?"

"No, I'm—"

"Hey, what are you guys whispering about?" A chirpy Brittany came into the kitchen and Santana stopped mid sentence. Brittany really didn't need to hear what she thought about her daddy-to-be.

"Nothing, Britt," she smiled and turned around to face the girl. "Just about how awesome dinner was."

Brittany beamed. "Wasn't it? So glad it went well. I really like them," Brittany told the other two teenagers and both of them looked at each other.

"Nancy seems nice," Santana offered. Nancy really _did_ seem nice. The lady seemed genuine. While Doug only seemed to be interested in his food and his future daughter, Nancy clicked with Emma over recipes, and with Will over his job as a teacher (she was, after all, the wife of the school board's member). She was engaged in a conversation about the football team with Puck. She didn't know much, but the effort was more than enough to score a good impression.

"She does," Brittany agreed. "Second round of dessert?" she took out a pint of ice cream from the freezer and walked over to the cupboard to get three bowls when she got nods from both Puck and Santana.

"Here," Puck handed Brittany the big spoon and watched as she put a second scoop on one bowl. She gave it to Santana and he looked at her in protest.

"How come she gets extra?"

"Shut it, Puckerman. It's because I'm awesome," Santana grinned.

"She braided my hair! This is my thanks," Brittany told him and he clicked his tongue in disappointment.

Brittany chuckled. "But you brought me a blanket this afternoon so you also get extra."

"Awesome," Puck grinned. He brought his hand up and Brittany gave him a high five.

oOoOo

"I heard you, you know."

"Hmm?"

"When you said he's bad news," Brittany said from her bed and Santana's eyes shot open. She was about to fall asleep but Brittany's words yanked her back out into consciousness.

"Britt, I—"

"It's okay. I know you mean well," Brittany turned sideways. "I want this, Santana. I do. So, so much."

"I know," Santana turned her head to face her roommate. "I know you do, Britt."

"But if you think I should talk to Maria about it, I will. I don't see what's wrong with Doug, but you do. And I trust you, Santana. You always look out for me."

Santana took a deep breath. She peeled off the covers and did the same with Brittany's after moving Lord Tubbington down to the floor. The cat wasn't happy about it but he was too sleepy to carry on with being annoyed. He hopped onto Santana's bed and continued his slumber.

"Come on," Santana tiptoed to the door.

"Where are we going?"

"Just… come on."

The girls tiptoed down the stairs and Brittany was reminded of the day they smuggled Lord Tubbington into the house.

"Santana," she whispered. "Where are we going?"

Santana reached into a vase set on the coffee table and, from it, she took out a set of keys. "Just follow me," she said as she grabbed Brittany's wrist and lead her to a door.

"San," Brittany nervously tugged on Santana's t-shirt. "I don't think this is a good idea."

"Relax," Santana turned the key. "They'll never know. It's not gonna take long. I've done this before and I've never been caught."

Brittany gasped. "You've broken into Will's office before? When?"

"Almost every night."

"What?"

"Ssh, Britt! Not so loud!" Santana put a hand over Brittany's mouth. "Look, the fact that you, my roommate, didn't even know that I've been going here every night means nobody does. Now come on. I promise it'll only take like… 5 minutes. Ten tops."

Brittany nodded and followed Santana to the piano. "You're gonna play?"

"Yep, sure am," Santana opened the lid.

"But won't Will and Emma hear you?"

Santana sat on the chair and patted the spot next to her so that Brittany would sit too.

"Like I said. I've done this a million times. See those?" she pointed at the surrounding walls. "There's a reason why they're padded."

"They're sound proof?" asked Brittany.

"You know it," Santana smirked and Brittany felt proud for figuring it out herself.

"Anyway," Santana continued. "I didn't know I was missing playing the piano that much until the day Will showed us this room. So I've been playing when everybody's asleep."

Brittany nodded understandingly and watched as Santana's fingers started dancing on the keys, gliding through a constellation of beautiful notes.

"That was awesome," Brittany said when Santana was done warming up. She didn't mean to whisper, but she felt like she needed to. It was as if she would ruin the lingering hum in the room if she had talked louder.

"I kind of owe it to my parents. They loved music. And I know a lot of oldies thanks to my dad— we used to sing together a lot. But this is for you," she told Brittany. "Bare with me," she stuck her tongue out and apologized with her scrunched face. "I might mess this up."

Again Santana's fingers danced on the piano. This time, though, not as freely. She made a rhythm with a few of the keys on the left side, and played a melody with her right.

Brittany brushed hair strands to the back of her ears. She wanted to hear— no. She wanted to _listen. _

"_You and I must make a pact,"_ Santana softly sang after clearing her throat a couple of times. _"We must bring salvation back. Where there is love, I'll be there."_

"I think I know this song," Brittany whispered to Santana. Of course she does, it was a really popular song. Even though she didn't know the words, she knew the melody well enough to know that Santana was playing all the notes right. Not to mention singing the song beautifully.

Santana replied with just a smile, not wanting to break her focus. _"I'll reach out my hand to you,"_ she continued. And she sang, _"I'll have faith in all you do,"_ looking at her friend, to let her know that she was serious. She believed in Brittany and she would be there if she called her name.

"_If you should ever find someone new,"_ Santana continued singing. _"I hope he better be good to you. And if he doesn't, I'll be there."_

Not that she was doubting the words in the song at all (because she knew Santana had meant every single one), but at this point, Brittany was more entranced with how good Santana's voice was. She couldn't believe her ears. She had heard Santana humming along to the songs on the radio, her iPod and even to the theme songs of whatever TV show it was they were watching, but this was the first time Santana had ever sang something with the intent of letting another person hearing it.

And it was magical.

It was magical and wonderful and even though Brittany had never felt anything like it, she was pretty sure this was what people mean when they said they have butterflies in their stomach. Only she was feeling it in her chest and she had to remind herself to breathe when Santana was done with the song.

"Britt, I need to be honest with something. I've been giving it a thought… and I'm not sure if disliking Doug is actually me looking out for you or just me being jealous," said Santana, hands fidgeting so bad that she had to hold one with the other. "But I _do _knowthat I want you to be happy. And that should be the only thing that matters. This is _your_ life, Britt, not mine. And I shouldn't be the reason why you can't have the things you want, especially when all I got is some lousy suspicion about a man."

Brittany pursed her lips. "But what if I want a lot of things at the same time? On one hand, I really, really want to get adopted, but… I don't want to be away from you too."

"No, look," Santana closed the piano lid and rested her right elbow on it. "Let's be real here. The chance of getting adopted when we're this age is so little. I mean, look at Puck and I. Nobody's lining up to adopt us because we're not little kids anymore... well, that, and the fact that we're both assholes. You're lucky you're perfect and the Geoffreys love you. But there's no guarantee you'll get the chance again."

"But," Brittany bit her lip. "What if you forget about me?"

"Oh my God, no way," Santana waved her hand dismissing Brittany's question. "We're best friends, and I love you. You'll always have me. I'll always be here, no matter what. You can't lose me," Santana told her soon-to-be ex-roommate. "But you promise me," she held up a pinky. "You run back to me if anything bad happens. Anything, you hear me, Britt?"

Brittany ignored the pinky. Instead, she lunged at Santana and hugged her like it was the last hug they were ever going to share. Santana, startled with the surprise attack, brought her hands to Brittany's back and returned the tight hold.

"You should join a choir or something," said Brittany after a few minutes, voice muffled by Santana's shoulder, and the second girl chuckled at the impossibility of it ever happening.


	13. Distances

_**A/N:** I forgot to say that the song Santana was playing on the piano was I'll Be There by The Jackson 5 (or Michael Jackson, Mariah Carey, NKOTB). I was sure I didn't have to tell you that because it's a really popular song, but y'know, just in case :)_

_By the way, you're gonna hear (read) a familiar song title in this chapter. Feel free to imagine Santana humming along, practicing that particular song._

_To everyone (lovely anons & registered users in my inbox): Yeah, Doug's such a creep, isn't he? I'm just gonna warn you that after the next 2 chapters, maybe 3, things are gonna get worse. But it's not rocket science and you've probably guessed what's gonna happen already. All I can say is... brace yourself._

_I usually reply reviews privately, but there's something wrong with the reply button tonight so I'm just going to do it here. Hope you don't mind._

_**• VeritoPerroni:** Thank you! You are too sweet! I'm trying as best as I can to keep writing this fic. :) :)_

_**• prattle01:** Yeaaaahhh I don't think they're gonna find out before Britt leaves ;) But we're gonna get there soon. Well, not that soon, but.. soon enough._

_**• FrogFeather:** First of all, I like your username :)) Second of all, thanks for sticking with the story! You're awesome!_

_Thank you for reading, everybody! This one is half filler, half important. I hope you can still enjoy it. Oh, a__nd I apologize for the mistakes!_

_P.S. Are you excited about next season or are you dreading it? I'm torn. Mostly because of Brittana's LDR and some behind the scenes stuff I've heard through the grapevine.. Ah well... at least in fanfic world (and by fanfic world i mean MY fanfic world) Brittana will always be endgame. :))_

* * *

><p>The one time Santana made Will drive to the Geoffreys' residence, Doug didn't seem too pleased to see the girl there. He acted friendly enough, but even Will could tell that the burly man couldn't wait for them to go away. But Santana paid no mind to it; she was instantly dragged away by Brittany who was eager to give her a tour of her new residence.<p>

She was too busy catching up with Brittany, but Santana still got the low down on what went down while she was busy admiring Brittany's very large room. According to the dinner table tales from Will that night, Doug, weirdly, kept bringing up how far of a drive it was back to their home. Emma suggested that maybe he was just concerned and had meant well with his comments.

"Maybe," Will said to the table. "But he didn't have to make jokes about how it would be a 'doozy'," he made air quotes with his hands, "if my car broke down on our way home. I know it's old but it's what we got."

Santana, who hadn't been paying attention to Will's story looked up from her plate and scrunched her eyebrows. "Who are we talking about?"

"Doug," Puck answered. Now that Brittany was no longer a part of their dinner rituals, her chair, next to Santana's, was his. Santana internally protested at first because, let's be real, Emma had no right to give away Brittany's chair to Puck. But as the night went on, Santana figured it was better to have him there than just an empty seat, which she had no doubt would've had made her miss Brittany more.

"He made fun of Stella?" Santana asked the table. Sure, the gray family wagon was no red convertible— and it wasn't like Santana had a strong attachment to the car, nor its silly name— but that was uncalled for. "When was this?" she tilted her head, this time looking directly at Will.

Will didn't answer her immediately. Instead, he looked at her like she had grown 7 extra heads on her shoulder, his eyes were wide and his mouth was hung open. Quite frankly, he was surprised that Santana knew the name of his precious car. He didn't think she would've paid any attention when he was telling the girls about Stella's history. It wasn't until Emma gave him a soft nudge with her elbow that he finally answered Santana's question.

"You weren't there. You were in Brittany's room," he told her.

"And you_ let_ him talk to you that way? Is it because he practically runs the schools and you're, like, his slave or something?"

"San," Puck warned her.

"What?" Santana challenged the boy sitting next to her. "It's a legit question. I don't know about you but I don't think Doug should talk to anybody like that. Just because he's rich doesn't mean he can look down on people."

Puck scoffed. "And what makes you think _you_ can talk to people like that?"

"Hey, hey," Will raised his voice. He had to do something before the argument got out of hand. Now that Brittany wasn't around anymore, there was no buffer between the other two kids living under his roof.

He spoke again, "you're right, Santana. I shouldn't have let him talk me down like that. Truth is, I was ready to cut through his nonsense. But I didn't. You know why?"

Santana scoffed. "Because you're a coward?"

From the corner of her eyes Santana could see Puck's jaw tightening and she regretted her stupid mouth. She had to admit, the possibility of Puck punching her in the face really scared her. But Emma's hand quickly landed on the boy's arm and the gesture successfully lowered everybody's heart rates.

"No," Will answered with a forced smile. It seemed ridiculous that a teenager's words could still hurt a grown man's feelings, but he couldn't help the pang he felt with Santana's jab. He continued after clearing his throat. "Well, yes he has a big influence regarding my career, but that's not why I didn't say anything. We were at his house, Santana. What do you think would've happened if I had given him a piece of my mind?"

Santana stayed quiet for a moment. Then she mumbled, "he would've kicked us out."

"Exactly. Would you have liked it?"

Santana shook her head slowly. "No," she mumbled again.

oOoOo

"You wanna hang out this afternoon? We can get ice cream or something. We can call Nancy and ask her to pick you up?"

"I can't, Santana, I'm sorry. I have dance lessons."

Santana furrowed her brows. "Since when do you take dance lessons?"

"This is my first day," Brittany held her folder tighter against her chest. It's a really hard thing to do, talking and walking in a crowded lunch hall while trying to score an empty table. "Around last month, during dinner, they were asking me questions about what I like to do and stuff."

"Okay, and?"

"And I wasn't really sure about anything, so I told them I like to dance," Brittany shrugged. Her eyes spotted Mercedes waving to them from a table right in the middle of the room and she gave her friend a smile. "Anyway, Doug thought it'll be great if I could, you know, learn properly."

"So he put you in a dance class," Santana nodded. "Why didn't you tell me?"

"It honestly slipped my mind. I was going to tell you when you were at the house, but Will took you home before I could. Hey!" Brittany beamed. "You should totally join my dance class! It'll be fun!"

Santana gave Brittany a bitter smile. "Yeaaah," she drawled out her words. "I don't think we can afford that, Britt."

"Oh," Brittany looked down, instantly regretting her stupid brain and her stupid mouth for not thinking before she spoke. "We can hang out tomor— no, wait… I can't," Brittany pouted. "Ugh, I'm sorry. We're going to a tailor tomorrow and have me fitted for a dress for something. I can't remember."

"What about this weekend?"

Brittany cringed as an answer and Santana took a deep breath. _Who are you kidding, Santana? Brittany's not yours anymore._

"San?" Brittany turned around to face her friend and they got sneered by the people walking behind them for stopping the crawling line. A crowd of hungry students could be scary sometimes. "I'm sorry. I'll make it up to you next week, I promise. Doug already planned something for us this weekend. I couldn't say no."

Whatever words there were on the back of her throat, Santana fought hard to not let them get out. Brittany seemed to sense the turmoil and felt really guilty about it. "I'm sorry, Santana," Brittany whispered, looking down at her shoes. "I just want them to like me, that's all."

"No, look, it's fine," it was Santana's turn to feel guilty. She knew Brittany must be torn inside. She wouldn't have wanted to disappoint her on purpose. "Go have fun. I'll still be here when you come back. We can totally do something next week."

Brittany dropped her folder to the floor and surprised Santana with a bear hug.

"Britt, what the hell?" Santana chuckled. She was shocked but amused at the same time. "People are staring, Brittany."

Brittany let go of Santana with a huge grin on her face. "You're the best, you know that?"

Once they were seated with Mercedes at the same table (she had to swat some students who were trying to occupy Brittany and Santana's chairs), the girls fell into a routine of updating each other about their days. Now that they weren't living in the same house anymore, Santana's interaction with Brittany was severely limited with the number of hours that they spent at school.

Will promised that they could see each other whenever they wanted, but since Brittany was living on the other side of the town, it was harder for them to visit one another. Other than that, Will was starting to feel resentment towards Doug ever since he treated him like a second-class citizen.

Santana didn't want to admit it, but maybe she cared about Will's feelings more than she had thought. Ever since that dinner, she had been finding ways to hang out with Brittany without involving Will or Emma. There had been a few Saturdays when Doug would drive Brittany to their house, but the visit never lasted long enough. That burly man always had an excuse for them to leave early.

So some days Santana would talk Brittany into calling Nancy and ask her to pick her up later. Some days Nancy would politely invite her to come over. Some other days Santana would save her lunch money to pay for bus rides to and from Brittany's new house on the weekends. There had been many occasions when Doug would sneer at her and crack a joke (or two or ten) about how Santana seemed to be _always _there, but she, begrudgingly, shrugged it off. She had learned to let it go. But to subject Will to further humiliation from the big man with his ridiculous bolo tie? No, thank you.

"Look at Jacob's hair!" Brittany told the lunch table and Santana, Mercedes, and a boy who just happened to be sitting with them whipped their head to see what Brittany was talking about.

"It's like a jewish cloud," the blonde said again without taking her eyes off of the subject matter.

Mercedes snorted at the sight and Santana just shook her head at the ridiculousness that she was seeing. Jacob's hair was unbelievable. It was never pretty (or at least decent) to look at, but she had never realized the actual phenomenon that it was. With her eyes, she followed the boy until he was lost in the crowd of hungry students.

"What the hell happened to him?" Santana asked the table.

"I heard he likes to stick his fingers to sockets and got electrocuted. That's why his hair's all messed up," the boy sitting on the edge of the table chimed in. "If you asked me, it doesn't look any worse than before. God knows he needs some conditioning."

Mercedes stared at him, confused, before she exchanged glances with the other girls who just shrugged at her. "And you are?" she asked the boy, taking mental notes at how… unusual… his outfit was. It was like a costume… only weirder.

The boy put down is fork and wiped his mouth before stretching his hand to Mercedes. "I'm Kurt," he smiled. "Kurt Hummel."

Mercedes shook his hand slowly, still not sure what to make of the boy. But she got over it and put on her best smile. "Hi, Kurt. I'm Mercedes, and this is Brittany," she pointed to the blonde girl sitting next to her and proceeded to point at the darker girl sitting across Brittany, "and that's Santana."

"Hi, Brittany, Santana," Kurt gave them a simple wave.

"Why haven't we seen you around before?" Santana asked. She was getting good at it— talking to people. Mostly because she didn't want Brittany to think that she was going back to her Unabomber ways now that she couldn't be around her that much anymore.

"Oh, well, sometimes I just… you know… hang back," Kurt shrugged. "In the dumpster," he coughed.

Mercedes raised a hand. "Hold up. What do you mean, 'in the dumpster'?"

"I get teased," Kurt nodded as he speak. "A lot. Some people like to throw me into those bins out in the parking lot."

"Well, yeah you're wearing a cape," Santana mumbled under her breath. Brittany heard it though, and she gave her a little pinch on her arm. "Ouch, Britt!"

"What's wrong?"

"Nothing," Brittany smiled. "I like your cape," she told him with a serious face and Kurt smiled like it was his birthday.

The four of them talked quite a bit before the bell rang. By the time lunch was over, Santana, Brittany and Mercedes had learned that Kurt's mom passed away when he was little and it resonated with the first two girls. Mercedes announced to all three of her friends that they could come over anytime if they ever want to eat her mom's awesome fried chicken, or just to get hugs because, "my mom gives the best hugs."

But Santana, even though she didn't say it out loud, knew Mercedes was wrong.

Brittany gave the best hugs.

oOoOo

Santana woke up that Saturday morning alone in the house. Lord Tubbington was nowhere to be found— Santana figured he went out looking for Brittany, but she had no doubt the cat would be back. He couldn't, for the life of him, stay out that long without food. So she wasn't worried.

Puck, as always, had a neighborhood football game to go to and the Schuesters had gone to cheer on him. They had asked her over and over throughout the week if she wanted to join them, and she had considered to really go this time, but her final answer became a 'no' when she realized that she was going to have the house all to herself. She had the decency, though, to tell Puck to kick some ass and that, for some reason, lit up Puck's face.

In his defense, it was the first time Santana had ever said anything about his games football matches.

Emma left her a note on her bedroom door saying there were pancakes in the microwave for her breakfast, and Santana didn't delay heating them up the moment she got to the kitchen. After pouring a generous amount of syrup on her pancakes, she grabbed her plate and walked into the living room. She plopped herself down on the couch, rested her feet on the coffee table (without touching Emmas neatly arranged magazines, of course) and enjoyed flipping the channels as she finished her breakfast one bite at a time.

11:28 AM, and on reflex her thumb pressed a button on the remote and it changed the channel to PBS. She was confused for a moment and changed the channel again. But every 20 seconds or so she would change it back to PBS and baffled herself all over again. But someone on TV started screaming _"heeeyy youuu guyyyss!" _and Santana knew what it was that made her want to watch PBS.

Lord Tubbington came out of nowhere and stood next to the coffee table. He looked at the TV, then at Santana sitting on the couch, and Santana got it. She just got it.

"Hey, Tubbs," she picked up the cat. "You miss her too, don't you?"

The cat blinked and looked around the room as if he was waiting for another person to sit on the couch. But nobody was coming, so he finally surrendered onto Santana's lap.

Santana smiled at the cat. "Wanna watch Electric Company with me?" She petted the cat and it purred. She took it as a yes.

Episodes rolled by and Santana found herself freefalling out of an airplane, landing her butt on the living room floor. She hurriedly stood up, checking to see if anybody saw her fell off the couch, readying herself with witty comebacks in case Puck was going to make fun of her. But nobody was there and she didn't hear anybody making a sound. _There IS a God_, she thought in relief.

Santana waited until her mind was fully there and the sleep was fully gone before she thought about the next thing she was going to do to kill time. She thought about making lunch, but she was still full from the stack of pancakes that she had earlier. She mulled over a few things to do like walking in the park, getting ice cream and window shopping, but she was simply too lazy to go out.

She hated moments like this. She was alone and it was quiet and dangerous. But not the kind of danger that most people were afraid of— oh no, she wasn't thinking about robbers and thieves. She was thinking about how easy it was for her to fall back into the old Santana, the one who would let bad things take over her mind. The one who would read an old piece of a newspaper over and over again and wouldn't let go of the past.

She leaned back on the couch and closed her eyes before slapping herself on the forehead.

_I'm so stupid!_

She got up and walked over to a familiar vase that was sitting on a table unsuspectingly. She reached inside for a certain set of keys and when she got them, she dangled them in front of her face and smiled in victory.

Once she was in the room, she didn't wait any longer to sit on the piano bench. She carefully opened the lid and warmed up her fingers by playing random keys. Then she played _her_ version of Frere Jacques (or Are You Sleeping or whatever) just to have something to hum along to.

It's ridiculous, she chuckled to herself, that all the songs she knew were either nursery rhymes or old songs that were remnants of her happy days with the Lopez clan. And none of those she learned from proper sheet music with notes and clefs. Only by ear. Yeah, the piano lessons helped, but it was only a 2-hour session per week with the lady who lived a few houses down, who was just looking for extra cash. The lady would just sit on the piano, play the same song 2-3 times, and then she'd just watch little Santana trying to read the notes and figure out which keys to press.

Santana was really lucky she's a fast learner. She bet that if she could only find Will's sheet music (Will _must_ have them somewhere), she could learn to play more songs.

Santana looked around the room, wondering where Will would keep his music sheets. He couldn't keep them on his desk, there were too many papers on it already. The bookcase? It looked dusty and untouched. No way the he'd keep his sheet music there. Suddenly an imaginary lightbulb lit up above her head and Santana stood up. She stepped away from the bench and opened the padded part.

_Bingo, _she smirked.

Santana took out the book she found in the bench and read the table of contents silently. She flipped, flipped, flipped through them all, looking for one that looked simple enough. Didn't matter if it was an old song or a new one. She decided to start with a song that she was familiar with, just to make sure she could match the notes in her head with the ones on the sheet.

"Songbird," she read a title. "I know this song."

oOoOo

Brittany's weekend started off fantastic. On Saturday, the family driver drove the Geoffreys to a shopping center somewhere outside Colombus. Doug waited in a coffee house while Nancy urged Brittany to spend a lot of money on everything she wanted. Of course, there were lots of things that Brittany wanted, she was a girl after all, but it still felt weird to be asking stuff from a… stranger.

So she refused. She refused, refused and refused some more until Nancy finally gave up and threatened the girl that if she didn't start picking some things, she would make sure they come home with everything, whether she liked it or not.

Brittany knew it wasn't an empty threat and that the Geoffreys were literally _that_ rich, so she hurriedly walked into a store and picked out some clothes. She didn't abuse the chance and only grabbed the ones she really _really _liked, but of course Nancy ended up instructing the store manager to get everything she had chosen in every color available.

The poor (lucky?) blonde girl thought her legs were about to fall off when it was finally time for her and Nancy to meet Doug at the coffee house. She was lucky she didn't have to carry all the shopping bags they had produced because apparently, it was part of the family driver's job description. He carried those bags with such mastery, for a moment Brittany considered asking him if he was part octopus.

Nancy had to make a quick stop at the restroom and told Brittany to not move and wait for her to come back. Brittany said yes, of course, but she cheated a little bit. She saw a jewelry store about 10 feet away and headed there straight away to watch all the pretty rings and necklaces twinkle in the light.

She must've spent more than a couple of minutes gazing through the shop window because, before she knew it, Nancy was already dragging her into the store. They didn't spend too much time in that particular store, though. About 30 minutes after that, Brittany was buckled up safely in town car with a little pink bag tucked in her purse. Her new parents pleased with the number of shopping bags stuffed in the trunk.

When she got up the next day, her feet were sore from their ridiculous shopping spree— but that didn't stop her from going to the kitchen.

Brittany was used to helping Emma with their breakfast, or at least watch when the redhead prepared the food, so it was only natural for her to wake up early to help Nancy prepare an elaborate breakfast every weekend.

She didn't really understand why Nancy would cook so much food when there were only the three of them in the house. She knew why Emma would do it— because there were 5 people living together. But the amount of food that Nancy made could feed 10. Not to mention she always went out of her way to cook no less than 8 different dishes, and that was just on good days. On bad days, the ones when Nancy would arrive in the kitchen with super red and puffy eyes looking like she hadn't been getting any sleep, she'd cook up a storm and come up with probably 15 different dishes.

French toast, breakfast quiche with salmon, pancakes, waffles, chicken fried steak, sweet crepes, savory crepes, crab cakes with poached eggs. Anything you could find in a breakfast themed restaurant menu, you'd find it at their house.

Brittany asked Nancy about it, but all the woman did was smile a smile that really didn't reach her eyes and told the young girl, "sometimes Doug gets confused what to eat. And he doesn't like it when he gets confused. So I'd just have everything ready for him."

It made sense.

At least, Brittany thought it did.

Like clockwork, at 8.20AM, Doug came down from the bedroom in his fancy velvet robe. He picked up the Sunday newspaper from the foyer table and sat in his chair, waiting for all the food to be brought to the dining table. Nancy, like a real loving wife, would pour him his coffee, his water, his apple juice and freshly squeezed orange juice into the different glasses set in front of him.

He didn't say a word about it, but after spending weeks in her new house, Brittany knew it was an unspoken rule that, during the weekends, everything and _everyone_ has to be at the dining room when the clock pointed to 8.30AM.

"How are you, Brittany?" Doug asked, his mouth chewing the fried steak that Nancy had whipped up that morning.

Brittany looked up with slight confusion in her blue eyes. "Um, fine? How are you?"

Doug roared with laughter. "You're such a sweet little thing. Isn't she sweet, Nance?"

Nancy smiled and nodded in agreement. She loved Brittany. Then again, who wouldn't?

"How's school and all? Are you having trouble? What's happening to your grades?"

"Well," Brittany took a big gulp of her milk. "Santana still helps me with my homework and tests. But since we're not living in the same house anymore, it's harder to find the time for her to tutor me."

"Hmm," Doug nodded. "Well, don't you worry about it anymore. We'll get you other tutors.."

Brittany scrunched her nose. "But… I have Santana."

"Now, now," Doug put down his fork and sipped his coffee. "Let's think about this for a minute, Brittany. I know your arrangement with Santana was convenient, but that was before. _Before_," he emphasized on the word, "you were living under the same roof. It was easy for both of you girls. But now, you're living in my house and let's face it… logistically speaking, it will be hard for both of you to continue studying together."

"But…" Brittany bit her lip in worry. "But she's very smart and she's a good teacher. Like, she knows how to explain things to me. The other day I got an A in English— I've never gotten an A in anything in my life before."

Doug used a napkin to wipe his mouth and put it back on the table. "Brittany, I'm going to be very honest, and this may sound strange to you. The truth is, I'm not just doing it for you. I'm doing it for myself too. What would people say if they knew Doug Geoffrey's _daughter_ isn't getting the best grades because he didn't get her _the _best tutors out there? You see what I'm saying?"

_Daughter_.

The word sounded so good in Brittany's ears, all the other words that came after it just didn't matter anymore. But she nodded anyway. She guessed she kind of understood where he was coming from.

"Think about Santana, Brittany," Doug continued. "Don't you think she deserves the break? I'm guessing she could use some time off to focus on her own education, isn't that so, sweetheart?" Doug asked his wife.

Brittany looked to Nancy and the older woman gave her an uneasy smile before nodding in agreement to what Doug just asked her.

"Santana doesn't mind," Brittany said in a low voice.

"That's what she told you?" Doug asked her and Brittany confirmed her answer with little nods.

"Well, now, that's very kind of Santana. I'm glad that you have such a good friend in her. But here's the thing, pumpkin… You know how she is. Do you really think Santana would _tell _you if she was bothered with you constantly needing her to help with your studies? Are you really sure that she doesn't mind?"

At this point Brittany couldn't help the tears in her eyes from falling. The thought of being a burden to Santana really bothered her, and the thought of Santana not telling her if she was being a burden bothered her even more. Santana had always been private, when it comes to her feelings. Even up until now, she still didn't know what was written in Santana's special newspaper clipping. It was more than possible that she wasn't telling Brittany the truth when she said she didn't mind.

"Please don't cry, honey," Nancy chimed in. She glanced at Doug to get a sign of approval to talk further and when he gave her a nod, she continued to speak. "You'll still see Santana at school. She'll still be your friend. We just think that, now that you're going to spend most of your time away from each other, it's good for you to distance yourselves. There is nothing wrong about trying to be more independent. I'm sure she would want to, but she can't be there all the time for you. We're a family now, sweetheart. You're our daughter now and we want you to have _only_ the best things in life, alright?"

oOoOo

Santana couldn't wait to see Brittany that Monday morning. She couldn't wait to tell her all about the songs that she learned over the course of the weekend. If they were lucky, and if she had read the schedule right, the band room was going to be unoccupied that day. It was her chance to play Brittany her new songs. Even more, she was considering getting Mercedes to sing for her. Or _with_ her or whatever. That girl had some serious chops. The other day Brittany forced Mercedes to sing after she told them she joined her mom's church choir and Santana felt so… inferior.

Of course Brittany still told her that she loved Santana's voice more, but Santana couldn't deny the fact that Mercedes was amazing. She was an unbelievable powerhouse that Santana wouldn't mind playing piano for that tremendous amount of talent.

"Hey," Brittany skipped her steps approaching her locker. The girl standing in front of the locker next to it turned her head and gave her a smile.

"Hi," like reflex, Santana moved her hands from her own to Brittany's locker. After a few turns and clicks, she pulled the door open for Brittany.

Brittany smiled. Even after her hang out requests last week were repeatedly rejected, Santana still treated her the same and it gave her a sense of, however weird it was, security. "Thanks," she said, and Santana just shrugged with a smile.

"How was your weekend?" Santana asked.

"It was awesome," Brittany beamed. "They took me to this huuuge mall outside of Colombus and like, let me get whatever I wanted. I told them no, but they wouldn't let me out of a store without buying something. I probably got, what, 14 new dresses in my closet now? And some other things too."

Santana smiled and forced herself to look away. She knew Brittany wasn't trying to make her envious or anything, but it was really hard to convince herself that she wasn't. While 14 dresses sounded like Doug and Nancy _really_ wanted Brittany to like them, it must be nice to have something that wasn't a hand-me-down from older kids from the group home. Santana wished she could remember the last time someone bought her a new dress.

Scratch that.

She did remember.

Someone from the local police department bought her a black dress a day before her father's funeral. She could even still remember what it smelled like. Mothballs and pity.

_Well,_ that _was a happy memory_, she thought.

Someone slammed the locker door behind her and Santana was pulled back from her thoughts. Brittany was looking at her suspiciously, like how she always did when she was trying to read her friend.

Santana, realizing her spacing out must've confused Brittany, gave her friend a small smile. "That sounds really great, Britt," she said, and she tried to sound like she meant it.

Brittany took a book and shoved it into her backpack. Santana noticed that it was no longer a match for hers, no longer the one that Emma bought for them both before the school year started. It broke her heart a little bit.

"Nancy bought me this when I was in the fitting room," Brittany hurriedly told Santana when she realized what Santana's sad eyes were looking at. She shook her head with wide eyes, "I didn't want it, I swear. I told them I was fine with the old one but I didn't want to disappoint them. I'll use our bag again tomorrow!"

"Britt," Santana chuckled and shook her head. She felt much better after hearing Brittany's explanation. "Don't be silly. It's fine, I get it."

"Here, I got you something," Brittany pulled out a pink paper box from her new bag.

"What is it?"

"Open it," Brittany grinned.

Santana raised her left eyebrow and took the box from Brittany's hand. She pulled the matching ribbon off the box, trying hard to hold back a smile. It had been too long that anybody had ever given her something.

"Britt," she gasped. "This is so pretty," she brought the bracelet up to her eyelevel and got a better look at it. It sure looked expensive. "You shouldn't have."

"Let me help you," Brittany took the bracelet from Santana's hand and fasten it around her best friend's wrist. "Now we match," she beamed and held up her own wrist.

"Brittany," Santana eyes the three charms dangling on her bracelet. They sure were beautiful. One said "B", the other "S", and the last one has "BFF" etched on it. "I can't repay you for this."

Brittany shook her head. "No, no. It's a gift, from Doug."

"Doug?" Santana asked suspiciously.

"Well, okay, it's from Nancy, actually. She wanted to get you— both of us— something. So I told her I wanted something that matches."

"Really?" Santana looked at her wrist and fiddled with the bracelet. "That's so nice of her."

"She is. I like her."

"Me too. She's okay. It's her husband that I don't like."

"Still? Even though he's my new dad?"

"I'm sorry but I can't see myself liking him anytime soon," Santana cringed. "But I promise I'll try?"

Brittany shrugged. That was good enough for her, for now. "Okay."

"Now come on," Santana grabbed Brittany's hand. "We got English."

The blonde girl kept still in her place and tugged on Santana's hand. "Um, actually…" she bit her lip. "_You_ have English… I got a new schedule."

Santana blinked a few times. "What do you mean you got a new schedule?"

"Doug rearranged my whole week," Brittany showed her a sheet of paper and Santana snatched it from her hands.

Santana read the whole thing top to bottom, her mouth moving accordingly to the words she was pronouncing out loud in her head.

"What the hell?"

"San…" Brittany reminded her that they were standing in the hallway full of students.

"Britt, he changed everything! We don't even get _one_ class together?"

Brittany winced. "I'm sorry?"

"Did you agree to this?" Santana waved the paper. "Did you at least say something about it?"

"I did! I really did! I told him you've been helping and stuff, and that you're the best tutor and everything, but he told me he's gonna get me other tutors and…" Brittany played with the hem of her shirt.

"And what?" Santana scowled. She crossed her arms, still holding Brittany's new schedule with her left hand.

"And that maybe… I should be more independent?" Brittany looked down. One of her shoelaces was untied and dirty from getting stepped on. "And I kind of… I kind of agreed to that," she whispered.

"Is that what the bracelet's about? Is it some sort of a bribe or something?" Santana asked through gritted teeth.

Brittany looked up. Her eyes confused. "What?"

"You're just gonna… you're just gonna dump me like everybody else?" Santana's voice cracked. "First you move out and now this? Best friends forever, my ass. You know what? Here," she took off her bracelet and shoved into Brittany's hands. "By the way, you got Math. Second door after teacher's lounge. But you probably already knew that," she told Brittany in a voice that was filled with venom.

"No, Santana. Please don't be like this. Hear me out, please," Brittany pleaded. But it was too late. Santana was already walking as fast as she could. Away, away, away from Brittany.

If she had just stayed a little bit longer, Santana would've probably seen Brittany wiping her tears, and heard the sniffles from her crying. She would've probably tried to listen to Brittany's reasons. She would've probably seen Mercedes shooting her daggers with her glare as she came for Brittany's aid and she would've definitely seen Doug suspiciously coming out of a nearby class, smiling at what just happened.

But she didn't.


	14. Plans

_**A/N:** I apologize for this chapter. Totally not my favorite piece, but I'm going to be very busy starting tomorrow. If I don't get it out today, I probably would just sit on this chapter forever. Le sigh, I'm sorry for the time jumps in this one, and the many mistakes I'm sure you'll find along the way. _

_Oh! Hey you awesome people who added this story to your alerts & faves— thank you so much! Nice to know people are reading this story. :) :)_

_Also, mass replying reviews is easier (faster!) than PMing the owner one by one & I've decided to continue doing it. Sorry, I promise it's just until I'm not as busy._

_**• harrybm1954** — I'm Indonesian. Trust me when I say I don't know English that well. Though I do know the difference between your and you're. That's all I'm gonna say, lol. And yeah! I know right? Sept 13 couldn't come any sooner. I'm not too excited about not having all the cast in one place, but I can't say I'm not looking forward to seeing them on my screen again. I just hope it's not gonna be a repetition of the sh*tfest that was Season 3._

_**• xSantanaAndBrittanyAreMyLifex** — They're my life too! lol. N'aahh.. I don't think the story's amazing yet but thank you! That means a lot :D_

_**• prattle01** — Doug will get his ass kicked... in Chapter 101. No, I'm kidding. I don't think there's gonna be a Chapter 101, so you can relax._

_**• RT** — I couldn't reply your review in Chapter 10 cause at the time I was replying via PMs. but since i'm doing a mass reply now.. Thank you for reading! We're starting to see the other side of Doug now. And I'm sorry for separating Britt and Santana. I promise it's just temporary. Though I can't say they're going to be together again anytime soon. We shall see! :)_

_Enjoy!_

* * *

><p>Brittany's days have been somewhat tiring. She had school, dance classes, tutoring, and on top of all that, she had to keep up her appearance of being perfectly fine and okay in front ofher friends and new family. Only Mercedes knew about it and it was only because she caught her crying right after the fight with Santana. She didn't want anybody else to know.<p>

Poor Mercedes, though. Brittany felt really sorry for her being caught in the middle. She knew Mercedes was torn between her and Santana. And it seemed like she was forcing her to pick her side just because her schedule adjustment had put her in the same classes with the girl. And it was great, really, to have a familiar face every day, but she couldn't help but wonder if Santana was as lucky as her. It had been more than two weeks now. Santana couldn't be alone, right?

"Brittany! Hey, Britt! Wait up!"

Brittany didn't hear the voice that was calling her, as she was busy with her thoughts, but she felt somebody was, so she turned around anyway. She was pretty pleased with her sixth sense when she found out that someone actually _was_ calling for her.

"Oh my God, Puck!" She smiled and her whole face beamed. "What are you doing here?"

Puck had to catch up with his breathing before he replied. "Team visit," he panted. "Rival school," he panted again.

"Oooh," Brittany nodded. That explained why Puck was a long way from home.

"What about you?" Puck rested his hands on his waist. "Man, you sure walk fast. I swear I wasn't that far when I saw you."

"Where did you see me from?" Brittany scrunched her face.

"Right…" Puck turned around to point at something, but that something was gone. "…there."

He scratched the back of his mohawk. As it turned out he had run further that he thought. The bus stop that he was waiting at was nowhere in his sight now. Although, that meant he spotted Brittany from a few blocks away and that meant he had exceptional eyesight— which was good because if he was going to be a receiver, he's going to need it.

"Anyway," he said after giving himself a mental pat on the back. "What are you doing here?"

"I just got out of a dance class."

"A dance class?"

"Yeah," Brittany told him excitedly. "Twice a week."

"Are you any good?"

"Weeell," Brittany blushed and kicked the ground. "My teacher said I am."

"Awesome," Puck said. "Maybe you'll perform sometime and we'll all come see you!"

"Puck, I just started. I'm not gonna be on a stage anytime soon."

"Oh, come on. How else are we gonna see you now that you don't live with us anymore? Our classes are next to each other but I don't even get to see you. Are you hiding or something? Do you want me to kick someone's ass?"

Brittany chuckled. "No," she said. "Don't kick people's butts for me. You'll get in trouble."

Puck smiled at his ex-sort-of-sister. The girl was still as sweet an as thoughtful as she was before, even if she didn't really have to now that they don't live under the same roof anymore.

"How's the house?"

"Same ol', same ol'. Though there's no screeching, annoying girly sounds anymore so, personally, I'm happy you moved out," he said with a smirk and Brittany playfully slapped him on the arm. "Ow!" he laughed. "I'm kidding. We all miss you."

"Really?" Brittany frowned. She felt guilty for never coming over to her old home anymore. Between her dance classes, tutoring and Santana not talking to her, she didn't have the energy to drop by. "Santana too?"

"Mh-hm," Puck smiled. "I think especially Santana. She's just a mess."

"Yeah, we're—"

"I know."

"Oh."

"She's been walking around like a zombie and hasn't been shooting me vicious words for the past 2 weeks. Which isn't necessarily a bad thing," Puck raised up both his hands. "I kinda enjoyed it, but then I got bored."

Brittany chuckled and shook her head. "You're a goof," she said.

"Eh," he shrugged. "You love me."

Brittany softly punched him on the shoulder. She didn't have to say anything. A 'no' would be denying it— which she had no intention to. And a 'yes' was not enough to tell him how much Puck meant to her. In just a short amount of time, Puck had become one of her favorite people. Mostly because she'd never had a brother before, and it was a nice feeling to have someone looking after not only you, but also the whole family, even though they're not really related.

"Oh shit, I gotta go," Puck said as he looked at his watch. It was an hour long bus ride home, and he really needed to get going. "I missed my bus when I was running to get you. And the last one's gonna be at the stop in, like, 5 minutes. So I have to run back," he said, squinting his eyes in the sun.

Brittany pouted, but then remembered that she still had tutoring in half an hour. "Yeah, sure," she nodded. "Don't bump into anything, Those lamp posts are pretty solid."

Puck laughed. He opened his arms for a hug and Brittany went to give him one. "It's good to see you. Take care, Britt," he said before he turned around and started running towards the bus stop.

Brittany hesitated but it was like she couldn't control her actions when she opened her mouth. "Puck!" she yelled and the boy stopped running and turned around.

"Tell her I miss her?"

Puck smiled and gave her a thumbs-up before he started running again. Brittany wasn't even sure he heard her right.

When she got home later that afternoon, Brittany only had a little over 10 minutes to get ready for her lesson. Not even enough time for a little snack even though her stomach was raging thunders after her dance class.

Sometimes she felt overwhelmed. Sometimes she wanted to check with Doug or Nancy for a schedule change, but Brittany never wanted to disappoint anybody. Seeing that her new parents really believed in her, enough that they seemed to make sure they provided the best for her, it was only natural that she played her part— a good daughter.

She looked at the paper in front of her. Full of mathematical equations. X's, ABC's, letters, numbers and a bunch of symbols whose meanings were lost to her. She looked to her left, where her tutor was sitting. He was scribbling something on his notebook. Brittany took a peek and it looked like he was doing his own complicated homework.

She sighed. If it were Santana sitting there, she would've made sure Brittany understood every single problem before moving on to her own stuff. How was she supposed to start solving the problems when half the things written on that paper meant absolutely nothing to her?

But okay, she guessed Todd wasn't that bad. He was a decent guy. Like a gentleman, he always stood up whenever a woman was leaving the room. He didn't smell like old gym socks and, so far, he was kind enough to stick around even though he was having a really hard time explaining things to her. Plus, when he's not tutoring her, he could be a lot of fun.

She sighed again just to gauge a reaction from her tutor, but nothing happened. She decided to speak out.

"I can't do it," she told him and he looked up to meet her eyes.

"Yes, you can, Brittany," Todd slid her back the paper that she had pushed away. "One more time."

"I can't. I just don't get it."

"Okay," Todd huffed. "Tell me which parts you don't understand?"

"Everything!"

"You gotta try harder!"

"I did!"

"Not hard enough! Come on. It's easy. X times 11 divided by 7 equals 8. That means X is…?"

"38?" she guessed. It was a really bad guess.

"Dammit Brittany," Todd slammed the desk with the palm of his hand and Brittany jumped. "It's not that hard! God! I can't believe you're this reta—"

"Everything okay in here?"

Nancy walked into the study with a pointed look on her face. She heard Todd's loud voice. She knew what he was about to say.

"Aunt Nance," Todd stuttered and cleared his throat. "I didn't know you were home."

Nancy eyed Todd up and down. He looked like he just swallowed a frog and about to spit it back out.

"Brittany?" Nancy walked over to the young girl who was looking down, trying hard to keep her tears at bay. "Honey," she rubbed Brittany's back. "There's lemonade and shortbread cookies in the kitchen. You can go ahead and get some. I think the lesson can end early today."

Brittany nodded. She got up from her seat and headed towards the doorway. But she didn't walk through the sliding doors before turning around to tell Todd that she was sorry. The young man must've felt bad for what he had said to her because then he replied with a quiet, "it's fine."

"What were you thinking?" Nancy crossed her arms. Now that Brittany was out of the room she could say whatever it was she had in her head. "Can you imagine what would've happened if Doug was around?"

"I'm sorry! I didn't mean to snap." Todd pleaded. "It's just… I was frustrated. I got a huge essay to do and she's kind of impossible to teach!"

Nancy scoffed. "That's not true. She's been getting A's and B's since the start of the school year."

"A's?" Todd asked. "Her? But she's a D material!"

"Yes, _her_." Nancy rolled her eyes. "And I'll have you know, that her previous tutor was her best friend. Same grade and everything. Are you telling me you're incompetent?"

"Oh, come on, Aunt Nance. You can't compare me to a 6th grader!"

"Well, quit yelling at her," Nancy whisper-yelled at Todd, trying to keep her voice down so that nobody could hear them. "Doug was okay with hiring you because you're my nephew and he knows you've been getting straight A's because you go to McKinley. But if he had heard you earlier," she poked his chest with a finger. "There's no telling what he could've done to you. To us."

Todd stepped forward so that he could use a lower voice with her. "Aunt Nance. Leave him. Pack up your things and leave. You can't let him treat you like this forever."

"And leave _her_ behind?"

"Who? Brittany?" Todd asked and Nancy nodded. "She'll be okay. She was a foster kid before. She can go back to her old family!"

"I can't do that to her. You don't understand," she started to cry and Todd was taken aback. The lady who had just called him _incompetent_ was now wiping the tears in her eyes. "Brittany is _his_ thing. She seems to have this… this _spell_ on him. He was the one who wanted to adopt her, God knows why. I tried giving him reasons not to, but when Doug wants something, he makes sure he gets it."

Todd considered his question for a moment before posing it. "Aunt Nance… did he hurt you? Does he _still_ hurt you?"

"It doesn't matter," Nancy shook her head. "But I need her to be safe. So I need you to do whatever you can to keep him happy. Right now he expects her to have good grades. I don't know what he'll do to her if she didn't get them."

Todd ran his hand through his hair. This was too complicated for his 17-year-old mind. On one hand he wanted to help his aunt, because let's face it; she wasn't about to help herself. On the other, tutoring Brittany proved to be something that was beyond his ability. Not to mention he had his own problems to worry about.

"Aunt Nance, please," he looked at her straight in the eyes. "Just leave him. Take Brittany with you! She's a sweet girl, mom and dad would probably be relieved if you both live with us."

"No!" Nancy lowered her voice once again when she realized she was yelling that last word. "He'd come looking for me… for her… I just know he would! Please, Todd, just stay. Don't give up yet."

"I can't," Todd shook his head. "I'm sorry. I really don't want to quit, but I just can't. I'll help you find another tutor. I'm so sorry but right now this is just too much for me to handle. Maybe you can get her friend to tutor her again."

"No, I can't," Nancy wrapped her arms around herself. "For some reason Doug's trying to keep them apart. Todd, please. I'll double your pay. I'll—"

"'Scuse me," Brittany's voice interrupted Nancy's speech. She was lucky she wasn't facing the door because if she was, Brittany would've seen her tears and it would've made the situation far more complicated than it already was.

"Yes, Brittany?" Nancy answered without turning around.

"Is Todd really leaving? Are you really leaving, Todd?"

Todd looked at his aunt before he answered. "Yeah, Britt. I am."

Brittany stepped inside the room and Todd quickly walked over to meet her halfway, just so that Nancy could compose herself before Brittany could see her crying.

"Am I gonna see you tomorrow?"

"No, Britt, sorry," Todd gave her an apologetic smile. "I'm not coming over anymore, okay?"

The blonde girl looked down at her feet. "Is it because I'm too stupid?"

"No! No, look, I'm sorry I yelled at you. I just got a lot in my mind right now," he glanced at Nancy and Brittany followed his line of sight. She saw the older woman's shoulder trembling. But before she could make any comments, Todd was already talking to her again. "Besides, you're not stupid. I just found out from my aunt that you were getting awesome grades."

Brittany nodded. "Santana helped me."

"Then maybe you can get her to help you again until Nancy finds a new tutor for you?" Todd grabbed his backpack and swung it over his right shoulder. "See ya 'round, Britt. Talk to you later, Aunt Nance."

None of the ladies in the room replied to his goodbye.

oOoOo

Three weeks after the fight, however late it was to gain a perspective over what happened, Santana finally did. She really missed having Brittany around. A measly hour of lunch at school turned out to be better than nothing.

_Fighting_. She let the word float around in her head and she started to wonder if that _really_ was what happening between Brittany and herself. A fight is usually caused by two angry parties. But, looking back, she was the only one being angry that day.

_Whatever_, Santana thought. _I'm doing great._

That was a total lie, of course. If she were being honest to herself, she'd say that she had been a complete mess since the incident. She could feel herself retreating from people. Not just at school, but also at home.

The other weekend, when Will casually mentioned Brittany's name and how it was different not having the blonde girl around all the time, Santana completely shut down her social mode. When he asked her if she knew how Brittany was doing, she replied by excusing herself from dinner early, told everybody she wasn't feeling well and apologized to Emma for not helping her clean up.

Puck came into her room later that night (without knocking, as always). He sat on the desk, did his homework there and left without saying a word when Santana announced that she was going to sleep.

She knew what he was doing. He was keeping her company and she was actually touched by the gesture.

So she gave him one of her pancakes the next morning.

"Don't get all soft on me, Santana. I might want more of those extra pancakes," he said as he put on his shoes that afternoon. Santana never could make out how Puck was so… social. He always had something going on every weekend. She couldn't believe that the dead squirrel on top of his head didn't put people off.

"Don't count on it," Santana replied from the living room and Puck just laughed. She heard the front door opened and closed and figured that he left. But not a second later she heard the front door opened again.

"Forgot to tell you something," she heard Puck's voice yelling from the front door.

"What is it?" she asked using the same decibel.

"She said she missed you! Tell Will I'm gonna be home at 9!"

oOoOo

Mercedes Jones was torn.

She knew how close Brittany and Santana were, and she definitely knew both of their backstories. More of Brittany's compared to Santana's, though. Anybody who knew Santana would tell you that she wasn't much of a sharer. Only a few selected people were allowed to learn the random tidbits that Santana kept dear in her back pocket, and there was even fewer of those people who knew not everything, but definitely more than just the outer shell of Santana's bubble.

Mercedes never took offense upon the fact that she was part of the first category of people. She respected their history that much that she was willing to be just sitting on the fence looking in. She had never lost a parent, but she figured it must be awful to not be going home to a real family everyday.

Every morning her mom would gave Mercedes a hug before she left for school, and all she could think of was how sad it was that Santana and Brittany didn't have mothers to hug them every day. Sometimes she would get a little bit selfish and thought to herself, '_praise God it didn't happen to me.'_

Then of course the next Sunday during church, she'd pray for forgiveness because the thought sounded so evil, selfish and conceited. Her pastor had made it easier for her by saying that it was normal for her to be feeling that way, and that it meant that she was grateful for her own family— and that was a really good thing. Still, she couldn't ignore the guilt that she was feeling. Especially now.

Mercedes knew (well, more like figured out) how her friends had helped each other in their own ways, and that one simply couldn't exist without the other. Watching them fight just broke her heart.

She didn't know what caused the fight. The morning it happened, she had arrived to school too late to witness the whole thing. She just saw Santana leaving after shoving something into Brittany's hands. At first, she couldn't decide which girl to attend to, but seeing that Santana was well on her way, half running to her first class, Mercedes decided to check on Brittany first.

The tall girl had started to cry when Mercedes tentatively touched her arm, so she let her cry into her shoulders. It was interesting, for Mercedes, that Brittany didn't cry the way she had thought she would. The look that Brittany had on her face totally convinced her that she was going to cry her heart out, all loud and potentially making a scene. But no, Brittany was a silent crier— at least that day. Apart from something along the lines of, "she hates me," Brittany didn't say a word. It was the way Brittany's shoulders were shaking, and the tears soaking her shirt that made Mercedes heart felt like it was being yanked out of her ribcage.

Throughout that Monday, Mercedes started to put the pieces together because somehow Brittany had more classes with her than she usually did. That must've been the reason why her friends were fighting. She couldn't, however, figure out why a change in schedule would cause a riff between the girls.

She tried to ignore it, hoping that the girls would solve the situation by themselves. But it was nearing a month after the original day of the fight and they haven't shown any signs of making up.

Mercedes was anxious. She had had enough of Brittany being weirdly mopey, and couldn't stand the sight of Santana eating her lunch alone in a quiet corner of the lunch hall any longer.

Through a note passed in class she tried to causally prod Brittany about the fight. She thought she had a better chance of getting an answer from Brittany rather than the other person involved in the war, but Brittany only gave her a headshake instead of passing back the piece of paper. It was then Mercedes knew that this was none of her business.

Of course, smart girls always have a Plan B.

When even Brittany didn't want to drop her hints on what was going on, it meant that Mercedes should expect even less from Santana. So she crossed being nosy from her list and started brewing another plan.

This time it was more about bringing them back together.

There was always one thing that she could rely on from her friends: their promise to be there for each other. And the first thing she had to do: enlist a backup. Lucky for her, she already had one going by the name Kurt.

oOoOo

Santana had her third period free because half of the teaching staff had to have an emergency over sanitation issues. There was a rumor going around that the janitor found a family of snakes in one of the restrooms. But she couldn't waste her time thinking about that kind of nonsense.

Her mind was still occupied by what Puck told her the other day. She cursed herself for having an ego that was too big to risk getting ridiculed by Puck if she asked about who 'she' was. Of course, she had an inkling that he was talking about Brittany. But would she really say that, given that it was _Santana_ who shoved their matching bracelet back into Brittany's hands?

Santana huffed and covered her face with her hands. She recalled the day it happened. It was so far away now that she could see what really went down, clearly. She wasn't mad at Brittany, she was angry at the circumstances. At Doug, definitely. But not at Brittany.

_And oh God, I should've stayed and listened to what she had to say. Why couldn't I've stayed longer? What kind of a friend am I?_

"Homework?"

Santana snapped out of her thoughts and looked up from her book. She eyed the person who just greeted her. It was so hard not to throw comments about the creepy hippopotamus head brooch that he was wearing.

"Yep," she said.

"Can I sit here?" Kurt pointed to the empty chair next to Santana. There was nobody occupying it, but he thought he should ask first. Mercedes had told him all about Santana's bubble and he had no intention to pop it.

Santana glanced at the chair before shrugging. Kurt took it as a yes.

"I got homework too," Kurt whispered, trying to make a quiet conversation. "I got geography, biology…"

"Hummel, could you please?" Santana gave him a warning look and Kurt pursed his lips.

"Sorry," he whispered. "I think I'm just too overjoyed for having someone to sit with. Apparently once you're thrown into the dumpsters, you'll never get rid of the stench."

Santana scrunched her nose and looked at the boy.

"It's a metaphor," Kurt rolled his eyes.

"Well, your metaphor stinks," Santana quipped, then she smirked. "Pun intended."

Kurt chuckled and that made Santana smiled a little before returning her focus to the book that she was reading. She really didn't mind having Kurt there. In fact, she felt glad to have someone sit with her.

Santana watched Kurt from the corner of her eyes and observed as he laid out his notebooks, textbooks and pens neatly in front of him. She wondered how long had he been sitting all alone before today. She herself had been doing it for almost a month. Before, there was always Brittany. But now that they were _fighting_…

"Santana?"

"Huh? What?"

"Nothing. You just looked," Kurt thought of a word. "Lost."

"Oh," Santana shook her head. "It's nothing. I'm just working out some stuff about this chapter."

"History?"

"Yeah," Santana lifted the book to show it to Kurt and huffed. "Lotsa things to memorize."

"When's your test? Mine's tomorrow. I'm in the same class as Britt."

Santana's ears perked up hearing the name. "Really?"

"Yeah," Kurt confirmed with a nod. "We've been sitting together for… I think 3 weeks in a row now."

"How is she doing in that class?" Santana couldn't help but ask.

"She's..." Kurt's eyes widened with realization and looked at the girl next to her. Mercedes warned him about saying the wrong things about Brittany. He knew Santana could kill him. "Okay, I'm not saying this because I think she's not smart or anything, but she could really use some help."

Kurt winced, scared of Santana's reaction to his answer. But she did nothing but stared at her book, so he gathered his courage for the second part of Mercedes' plan.

"Sooo… what happened to you guys? Mercedes told me you used to help Brittany with her studies. And I mean, you used to be inseparable. Even when I didn't know you I could tell you were joined at the hip."

Santana shrugged. "Things happened." A pause. "I thought she has tutors now?"

"She did," Kurt nodded. "But they kinda quit on her, that poor thing. Since then she's had a couple more, but none of them really helped. And now I'm worried for her. You know how there's a grading period, right?" Kurt checked to see if Santana understood him and she nodded to tell him that she did.

"Well," he continued, "this next one's gonna end in January. I'm just worried that if she… if they couldn't find her a tutor that could reach her, she'd have trouble keeping up."

Kurt waited for Santana to say something about the whole matter and watched her facial expressions changed from one thing to another. It was pretty amusing, if they weren't all of bad feelings alternating one second to the next. When Santana abruptly got up from her seat and started to pack her things, Kurt furrowed his eyebrows.

"Where are you going?"

"Sorry," Santana zipped her backpack. Enough was enough. "I just remembered I had something to do at home."

That was a dumb lie. They both knew it was only the third period. She couldn't possibly be heading home.

Kurt eyed Santana suspiciously as she walked towards the exit, but decided to just let it go. He had done his part and it was clear that Santana still cared a great deal about Brittany. Otherwise she wouldn't have asked at all. He was going to report that to Mercedes later.

As soon as she was out of the library, Santana went to an empty classroom and tore off pages from her folder. She could've made a copy first, but it was much faster this way. Besides, her test wasn't until Wednesday. She still had plenty of time to rewrite everything.

Santana started rereading all of her notes and exchanged any big words that she might've used with simpler ones— ones that Brittany would instantly understand.

She highlighted some parts with her pink and yellow fluorescent pens, knowing that her best friend would appreciate the pretty colors on the page and, therefore, would help her remember all the details better. She even took the time to illustrate the really complicated paragraphs— even though she knew she wasn't the best artist on the block— just to make sure Brittany had a visual aid to work on. Cute pictures never failed to turn studying into a more fun occasion.

Santana pulled away to check on her handiwork. _Not bad_, she thought. It was kind of messy, but it was the best she could do for now.

She picked up a red pen and before she could stop herself, she found her left hand was already scribbling, "_good luck, B!"_ at the bottom of the last page.

She sighed. _There goes anonymity_.

Santana looked at the clock to see if there was time for a do-over. But nope, there was no such thing. She only had several minutes left to shove the papers into Brittany's locker before the hallway was flooded with students. She knew the sooner Brittany got her hands on those notes, the more time she'd have to study. After packing her things, she stormed out of the classroom and headed to the lockers.

Exactly 1 second before the bell rang, Santana's mission was accomplished and Brittany's locker was closed shut like nothing ever happened. Santana decided that she needed to stick around; to make sure Brittany got those notes. After contemplating her options, she hid behind a nearby door and peeked through the glass window. It was either that or the trashcan.

It wasn't long until the hallway was filled with scrambling students. She noticed a few people from her class, including Jacob and his big hair rushed to their respective lockers to get whatever books they needed. She saw Kurt, coming from the library and felt bad for leaving him just like that earlier. She promised to sit with him during the next class they had together.

Santana thought she heard a familiar sound of laughter, so she turned her head to see the other side of the hallway. She was right, it was Mercedes' laughing to whatever story Brittany was telling her. That girl, aside from having a set of powerful pipes to sing, could also laugh like it was her last chance to laugh. By the time the girls got to the lockers (Mercedes' was right across hers and Brittany's), the laughter slowly died and Mercedes helped Brittany with her locker combo. Santana made a mental note to pay for her tater tots the next time they have lunch together.

As soon as Brittany got her locker opened, Mercedes went to her own locker to get her things and left Brittany alone. It was then that Brittany found the folded notes. She looked confused, at first, but who wouldn't be when they found an unfamiliar stack of paper in their locker?

Brittany took out the papers and started to read them. Her face lit up when she realized what was in it, and lit up even more when she got to the bottom of the last page. She knew exactly whom it was from.

Through the glass window, Santana watched Brittany scanning the hallway to find the person responsible to the lovely gift she had just found amongst her stuff. But Santana was a pro in hide and seek.

Or so she thought.

Her line of sight got blocked by few kids, and when they were gone, Brittany was too. Santana lost her. It was as if Brittany disappeared into thin air because Santana couldn't think of anywhere she might've gone to.

_Damn crowded hallways with kids in the way._

Figuring that the coast is clear and that the notes were now in Brittany's hands, Santana stepped out of her hiding place. She had her 4th class to go to, and she'd like to get there early to get a good seat next to the window. The teacher had some serious hygiene issues.

She turned around, planning to make a short stop at the water fountain. but suddenly something fast came her way and tackled her that she was pushed back onto the lockers. She closed her eyes, shocked by the impact. She couldn't breathe and for a moment she thought maybe it was a stampede. Or maybe the rumor about the restroom was right and it was a huge python squeezing her to death.

"See you at lunch, San," the hug loosened and Santana instantly recognized that voice. But when she finally opened her eyes, the 'python' was already nothing but a blur of blonde hair running to her next class.

Santana got to her class a little too late to score a good seat far from the odor her teacher was emitting, but it didn't matter. It was the best fourth period she'd ever had. Ever.


	15. Time

_**A/N:** Shit is about to go down!_

_**• MissAB:** Woo representin' south east asia! :)) But, ok, got a confession to make. I'm not currently in the country. How ARE things down on the other side of the world? Also, thanks for the encouragement— though I can tell your English is perfectly fine ;)_

_**• Prattle01:** You're my favorite. Thanks for sticking around this long!_

_**• Brittanaendgames:** Thanks for leaving not 1, not 2, but THREE reviews for 3 different chapters! They seriously made my day when I got them in my inbox._

_As always, thank you for subscribing to the story and for putting it under your favorites. As Figgins would say: "Achievement!"_

* * *

><p>Out of her love for Brittany's free spirit and never-ending sweetness, Nancy had been covering for her and Santana's friendship. It was no secret that her Southern-raised, bolo tie wearing husband did not approve of their attachment. Nancy, however, didn't mind the girl at all. From where she was standing, Santana was not threat. For starters, she kept Brittany focused on her classes and tests. Then, of course there was the fact that the girl was Brittany's best friend and the way she treated the blonde girl was incomparable. So protective and so much better than any of her classmates had been treating her.<p>

Except probably Mercedes Jones. That girl was nice. Sometimes loud, but nice.

Nancy knew Doug would be furious if he knew about this arrangement. She knew he would grow suspicious if Brittany kept getting high grades without Todd teaching her. She hated to admit it, but Brittany wasn't the brightest bulb in the tool shack. At least, not without any guidance. So she hired fake tutors for Brittany, hoping that their existence could erase any trace of her lies to Doug.

She had every one of them come over, once, to meet Doug just so that the man wouldn't question how things were going with Brittany's lessons. He then would interview them— scratch that, _interrogate_ them— about their specific field of expertise (math, biology, geography, etc.), which schools they were going to, their home life… _everything _he could think of to make sure nobody was involved with any of the Schuesters. Especially Santana.

Once he was satisfied with Nancy's choice of tutors, he let them go. He was never around for Brittany's _supposed_ lessons, but he would check on her progress consistently. It was easy, being a board member of Brittany's school, to check on her grades. All he had to do was call the principal and he would update him with a complete report.

So far, so good. Brittany's grades were up once again and she was doing well in her classes. There were still the occasional eye rolls or chuckles from her classmates due to her innocent, unusual remarks every so often, but other than that, there was no significant obstacle when it came to her education.

Of course, Doug thought he owed it to her tutors. So he had been giving them rewards by raising their pay $3 per hour.

They happily accepted. Who wouldn't?

oOoOo

For once, Nancy was able to use her long-forgotten computer skills.

She was a secretary before she got married to Doug, extremely well versed with spreadsheets and timetables. But her husband was a traditional man and he didn't let her go back to work. She tried talking to Doug about maybe getting a computer once, but he laughed to her face and told her she didn't need one. He insisted that she either stay home doing house chores, or mingle with the wives of the _important_ people in Lima at clubhouses or brunches. Any other ridiculous requests of hers immediately got shot down, sometimes violently, and Nancy eventually gave up.

When Doug came home with a brand new computer for Brittany ("you can use it for schoolwork," he said with a big smile), Nancy was internally, completely overjoyed. A little bit jealous, but she was secretly happy about it. Nancy grew even more ecstatic than Brittany the minute Doug announced that they were going to have Internet connection. If she hadn't been so afraid of her husband, she would've done somersaults like an eager frog on a trampoline.

But she had no time to get lost in the wonders of the internet, because what she needed to do was to rearrange her daughter's schedule so that she could have still have her dance lessons, school and most importantly, her Santana time.

Unlike her husband, Nancy really didn't see need to keep the girls separate. That day when Brittany showed her the history notes that Santana left her in her locker, Nancy was extremely touched. She didn't think Santana would've done such a lovely gesture. Especially when the girls were fighting.

Oh, yes. She knew about the fight. The night after it happened, her husband himself told her all about it. Pride written all over her face. _"I did it,_" he said with a smug smile. _"That pesky brat's not gonna be near Brittany ever again."_

To think that she just bought the girls matching charm bracelets.

Nancy still couldn't figure out why her husband was so hell-bent in keeping the two little girls apart from each other. She wanted to, of course. She just needed to be careful about it.

And that wasn't hard to do. It was, in fact, easier than telling Brittany to keep her days with Santana a secret. It wasn't that Brittany was a blabbermouth, not at all. But it wasn't in Brittany's nature to think badly of someone. Brittany, bless her soul, would rather wait until someone was proven bad before judging a person. Most of the time it's wonderful and refreshing, but the rest of it… not so much. Especially when dealing with people like Doug Geoffrey.

oOoOo

On a particular Saturday, when Doug was off visiting a friend somewhere in Colombus, Nancy dropped of Brittany at her old home. They were greeted by a very anxious Santana, sitting on the steps of the porch. The girl even ran over to the car to help with Brittany's overnight bag and Nancy couldn't help but chuckle.

Emma prepared tea for the visiting guest and they talked for a little while. It was nice, having someone over who shared the same concerns over laundry detergent and carpet cleaners. In addition, Nancy gave her a few really good tips on cleaning. She might just be Emma's new favorite person right now.

"Listen to them," Nancy said to Emma when she heard laughing from the kitchen. The girls were fighting over Emma's fresh-baked cookies even though they knew there were a bunch of them. "They sound so happy. I can't remember the last time I laughed that loud."

Emma chuckled. "That's Brittany and Santana, alright. Joined at the hips. And sometimes their heads."

"What do you mean?"

Emma poured some more tea into Nancy's cup and the latter woman thanked her.

"It's like… what do you call it? Telepathy," Emma said, snapping her fingers. "Like they always know what the other one is thinking without actually talking? When it comes to Santana, Brittany is the only one who can completely understand her, and vice versa."

"Ah," Nancy nodded. "I see."

There was a comfortable silence before Emma spoke again.

"They're good for each other. There's this… bond, you know?" Emma asked and Nancy nodded appreciatively. "I thought it was because they both lost their parents and they can relate to each other."

"It wasn't?"

Emma sipped a bit of her tea. She shook her head lightly and smiled. "I think what they have is something nobody else can understand." A pause. "Tell me," Emma politely asked. "Is Brittany happy there? At your home?"

If she weren't married to her husband, Nancy would've found the question offensive. But she couldn't exactly spill her guts out about her home situation, so she just smiled. "Why are you asking?"

"Oh!" Emma's eyes widened. She waved her hands frantically to excuse her question. "No, no. I didn't mean it like that, I'm sorry! That sounded so much better in my head. It's just that… well… we love Brittany and—"

"It's perfectly alright, Emma," Nancy smiled. "I can assure you that I'm doing everything I can to make sure she stays smiling." A pause. "She's a very special girl. She's so innocent and lovely, and yet there's a level of maturity hidden underneath. And I hate to be cliché… but Brittany is like sunshine."

"She is, isn't she?" Emma agreed. She turned her head to the kitchen and watched Brittany scold Santana for drinking the milk before she had a chance to dunk her cookie. "We don't even want to know what would've happened had we not taken her in."

It was the truth. Sometimes Emma's heart would still break remembering the old Santana. The one who just wouldn't let anybody in. In all honesty, Emma wasn't sure she wouldn't have given up if Brittany didn't come along.

Nancy smiled and looked at the walls. She liked those walls. In fact, she liked the whole house. There were photos hanging, marks from measuring heights (she assumed it was from the boys because the girls couldn't have been waist high when they first came). She could feel _normalcy_— a certain kind of warmth radiating from the walls that most definitely didn't come from the heaters. She looked into her teacup and sighed. _If only my own home could feel like this._

"I have to get going," Nancy told Emma. "I made such a mess with breakfast this morning so I better start cleaning before Doug gets home tomorrow night. You know how long it'll take me," she looked up to find the other woman nodding vigorously. "If it's not squeaky clean by tomorrow, Doug's gonna throw a tantrum," she joked, but the split second frown on her face told Emma that it wasn't as funny as it was intended.

Emma laughed out of sympathy, trying to not read too much into the her guest's expression. "Brittany," she called to the kitchen. "Nancy's leaving, honey."

Brittany came skipping her steps. "I'll walk you to the car," she offered with a big smile.

"Of course," Nancy smiled back as she stood up. There was no end to Brittany's sweetness. She gave Emma and Santana final nods before she left. "Thank you, Emma, for the tea. And I'll see you soon, Santana."

oOoOo

"Awesome, Britt," Santana told her best friend with a large smile on her face. It was nearing their bedtime and they got school in the morning. Brittany, unfortunately for her, even had a test waiting for her for 3rd period. "You got 9 out of 10! You're so ready for Mrs. Douglas' test tomorrow."

Brittany squealed and jumped up and down on her bed. "9 out of 10? Seriously? I can't wait to tell Nancy about it. Oh, and Doug too!"

Santana scrunched her face and looked at Brittany apologetically. "I don't think you can tell Doug about this, Britt. Wait for the test instead, okay?"

Brittany's face fell. "Oh," she clicked her tongue. "Yeah, you're right. See, I still don't know why Nancy wanted me to keep quiet about spending time with you. The other day when I was walking her out, she told me to tell Doug that I was having a sleepover at Mercedes' in case he asked. She even called Mercedes' mom and all that."

Santana listened carefully. She had been ecstatic when Nancy called their house that morning to let them know that Brittany could stay over another night. She didn't know how Nancy did it, but she sure as hell knew Doug didn't willingly let Brittany get out of his sight for more than 24 hours, even if it's for a sleepover at Mercedes'.

"What do you think it's all about, San?"

Santana shrugged. She kind of knew why Nancy told Brittany to keep it a secret. She just wasn't sure _why _Nancy would do it for them. But, at the end of the day, it wasn't her problem to think about. Santana just hoped Nancy wouldn't get into trouble. "Don't know, Britt," she replied. "But if it's important to Nancy, I think you should do it."

Brittany scratched her head. "You think so?"

Santana nodded and Brittany scrunched her face.

"Okay," Brittany answered simply. She got off from the bed and walked over to the desk. She took her paper from Santana's hand and held it up against the light so she could see it clearer. "9 out of 10," she said. "Ugh, this is awesome. Santana, you should totally be a teacher. You're good at it."

"Yuck. No," Santana got up from her seat and made a disgusted face. She followed Brittany's lead and head to her bed. It had been a fun day but they got a long day at school tomorrow.

"Why not?" Brittany flicked the light switch on the wall. "You're so good at it."

"No way I'm gonna be a teacher," she shook her head, climbing on top of the bed. "I'm gonna be famous and have lots of money. I'll have a big mansion and cars and everything."

"Ooh. That sounds even better!"

"Doesn't it?" she yawned. "I'll have a pool, and biiiigg grand piano in the middle of my living room."

"That sounds awesome," Brittany's eyes twinkle. "Can I come over?"

"Well d'uh! You can come over anytime!"

"Can I bring along Lord Tubbington?"

"Only if he's not gonna eat all my food."

They yawned at the same time and giggled. When the laughter finally died down Santana turned off the light on their nightstand.

"Night, B."

"Night, San."

oOoOo

At one o'clock Monday morning Santana heard someone banging loudly on the front door. Whoever it was, they were very impatient because they were yelling all kinds of things that she was pretty sure would've gotten her at least 2 weeks of being grounded.

She looked to her left and sleepily smiled. Brittany was still sleeping, clutching the big fat cat who was also known as Lord Tubbington— or you know, _Fatso_.

Santana heard a commotion coming from the hallway. It sounded like Emma and Will finally realized that someone was about to knock the front door down. They rushed out of their room and down the stairs.

She got out of her bed and tiptoed outside, careful to not wake Brittany up, following Will and Emma's footsteps. She passed Puck's room right when he popped his head out of his door.

"What's going on?" he squinted his eyes, irritated by the bright lights outside his room.

"Don't know yet," Santana whispered. "Keep an eye on Britt for me."

Puck frowned, not liking Santana ordering him around, especially when he's half asleep. But he got out of his room anyway and leaned against the wall, positioning himself between his and the girls' door.

Santana couldn't really say that she was surprised. Somehow she knew it was going to happen— that Doug was going to find out his precious Brittany was there instead of Mercedes' house. She was, though, a little bit surprised that Will didn't invite him in. She could hear muffled noises through the door. They were loud enough to be heard from the end of the staircase so she stopped there and sat down.

From the corner of her eyes she saw Emma appearing from the kitchen. Her robe was untidy and she was playing with the nails of her thumbs. Flicking them against each other, over and over again. Will didn't let her come outside with him, and that made her extra nervous.

Santana scooted to the left, making space for Emma in case she wanted to sit down. She could see the red haired woman weighed her options and Santana internally scoffed at herself. She shook her head. What made her think Emma would take the offer of sitting down on the unsanitary floor?

To her surprise, Emma took the offer.

For where she was sitting, she could hear Will's voice trying hard to calm down the big man who had just threatened his position at school. _"Doug, please, I don't know what you're talking about," _he said. _"Please just… let's start from the beginning."_

_"Where's my daughter? I can report you for kidnapping, you know that?"_

_"Kidnapping?" _Will was surprised. But not as much as he was offended. _"We did no such thing!"_

_"Don't play dumb with me, Schuester," _Santana heard Doug's voice again. She could picture him pointing his finger right in front of Will's face. _"I know she's here."_

_"Calm down, Doug, please. It's 1 AM. You'd wake up the neigh—"_

_"DO I LOOK LIKE I CARE ABOUT YOUR NEIGHBORS? LET THEM WAKE UP AND SEE WHAT KIND OF A FAMILY YOU ARE. A BUNCH OF USELESS, UNGRATEFUL KIDNAPPERS! YEAH, THAT'S RIGHT, KIDNAPPERS!" _he shouted louder than before just because he could. Just because he wanted the neighbors to hear it.

That was it. That was Santana's last straw.

"Hey asshole!" she yelled the second she got out of the door. Emma's hands didn't move fast enough to grab the girl. "Stop your yelling and get your head out of your ass!"

"Santana!" Will shouted at her, a warning for her to shut up. But it was no use. Santana was furious, she didn't even care that she was only 12.

_Language schmanguage,_ she thought. _I'll deal with it later._

"You have no right to yell at people at 1 o'clock in the morning! He said we didn't kidnap anybody, and we didn't. So why don't you march your big fat butt back to your stupid convertible and head home?" she told him, completely ignoring the shade of red going up Doug's face.

"Santana, that's enough," Will took a step between her and Doug. He didn't approve of what the girl was doing, but he'd be damned if anything happens to her. Doug's hands were balled into fists now and he was fuming. Although Will doubted Doug would ever hurt Santana, his didn't know him enough to guarantee that.

"Where is she? Get her down here," Doug demanded with a low, menacing tone.

Will stepped in. "She's asleep, Doug. It's what everybody was doing before you came here. Can't we be civil about this?"

Doug turned his head to look at Will. "How can I be civil," he said, taking a step forward and Will automatically stretched his arm to protect Santana in case anything happened, "when everyone is _conspiring _to hide her from me?"

"I can assure you we're not hiding her from you."

"She was supposed to be at the Jones' tonight. But I called and she wasn't there. Nobody could tell me where she was. Nobody _wanted_ to tell me where she was. Not even MY WIFE!" he shouted again and Santana was disgusted with the saliva he sprayed out of his mouth.

"Doug, please," Will raised his hands to calm down his guest. He spoke in his most polite tone. "Now you know where she is. She's safe and sound, and asleep. Let's think this through. I can drop the kids off at school tomorrow, and she'll be home again before you know it."

Doug didn't answer immediately. But even in the darkness Santana could see his jaw tightening out of anger. Any tighter and he would've shattered his teeth.

"Wake her up now," the burly man said through gritted teeth. "I am her _father _and she's coming home with me."

Will shook his head. He couldn't believe how irrational Doug was being with his request.

Santana, standing behind him, already knew that Will was going to give up. But before she could say anything, Will already beat her to it.

"Santana," he sighed. "Please wake Brittany up. Her father is here."

"No! There's no way I'm letting her go home with this psycho!"

"_Now_, Santana," Will said to her again in a harsher tone. He didn't want to do it, but it was important for her to do as he said at that moment.

Santana stood her ground for a couple of seconds before Will turned his head sideways to look at Santana with the corner of his eyes. "If you don't do it, I will," he told her.

She didn't do it. She didn't turn around, didn't enter the house and wake Brittany up. She wasn't about to let Brittany go home with Doug. The man is disturbed, not to mention creepily obsessed about Brittany.

Will let out a breath and started to pivot. But when he was finally facing the door, a certain blonde girl stepped outside.

"It's okay, I'm here," she said and Santana whipped her head around.

"Britt, what are you doing?" asked Santana, taking notice of the gym bag Brittany was holding and her school bag clinging on her shoulders. Puck was standing behind her with clenched jaws and Emma holding on tight to his arm. It was as if she was keeping him on a chain, afraid that he was about to maul the man who had dared to disrupt the peaceful night.

Brittany gave her a small smile. "I don't like it when people fight." A simple answer, and the truth. She had heard the confrontation from upstairs, even though not everything. She just knew that she wasn't going to make the situation any better by staying in the room.

"Are you sure?" Will asked Brittany, much to Doug's dismay. "Do you want to wait until morning? We can drop you off at school?"

"I am," Brittany nodded. She looked at her angry father. "Hi," she greeted him.

"Get in the car, Brittany," he told her without even looking at the girl.

Will hesitated, but he offered Brittany assistance with her bag anyway. "Let me help you with that."

Brittany nodded and walked with Will to the car parked right in front of the driveway.

Santana didn't know why Doug had let Will walk Brittany to the car— it didn't seem like something he would've done. But she soon found out when Doug opened his mouth to speak again.

"You think you're smart, don't you," Doug sneered at her with an eerily calmer voice. "You think you can take her away from us."

"First of all, you're crazy. I've known that you are since the first day we met. Second of all, I'm not trying to take anybody away from you." Santana told him, and it was the truth. She was sure that whatever that was happening right now was not her fault. If anything, it was the man's own fault.

Doug let out a small laugh. He took a step and bent himself forward that his mouth was near Santana's right ear. "You will regret this," he whispered to her.

Doug tipped his cowboy hat to Emma and stepped down the porch to walk over to the other side of the car.

"Say goodbye, Brittany," he told the girl as he got into the driver's seat and Brittany gave everybody a weak smile. She waved from the passenger seat before the car drove off and Santana just knew right then that it wasn't a threat that came out of Doug's mouth. It was a promise.

oOoOo

It's a funny world that we live in. Good intentions don't always get rewarded with kindness, understanding, or this case, love.

Sometimes you get scolded, perhaps you get yelled at. In some unfortunate cases, you get bruises.

It's a funny world that Nancy was living in.

"Did you fall?" Brittany popped her head between the front seats. Nancy had a nasty bruise on the side of her face and she was concerned.

Nancy smiled gently, careful not to strain her split lip too much. "I slipped," she replied the question with an uneasiness in heart. "But it'll heal soon. Don't worry about it."

"Does it hurt?"

"A little bit," she glanced at her husband who was busy driving the car. He had let go everyone who was working for them, including the family driver. This was a special trip.

"Brittany, honey, why don't you sit back? It's dangerous to be sitting that way," Nancy asked the girl. Mostly because she was uncomfortable with how close

Brittany was with her fresh injury.

Brittany nodded and leaned her back to the seat. "Okay."

She must've dozed off for a little bit because when Brittany looked out the window, all she saw was grass. That, and cows. A whole lot of cows.

"Look, sweetheart," Doug pointed out the window to a sign they were about to pass. "Say goodbye to Ohio."

Brittany watched the sign pass by thinking how much she was going to miss Ohio.

oOoOo

Santana didn't have a problem about Brittany not coming to school the next Monday after that 1AM fiasco. Sure, she was a little bit worried, but she figured it was just something that Doug would do— get angry and not let Brittany go to school as a punishment.

The next day, when Brittany once again didn't show up at all at her locker, Santana started to get suspicious. She waited at Mercedes' locker to see if she knew anything.

As expected, she did not.

Mercedes was just as clueless as she was. The last thing she heard about Brittany was from her mom who had just got off an angry phone call with Doug, frantically looking for her friend. She didn't even know Brittany was planning to spend the night at her house. But, apparently, her mom and Nancy used to go to the same church. They were good friends a long time ago, and when Nancy asked for her help, she said yes. No questions asked.

"I know as much as you know, Santana," Mercedes told Santana and she wasn't happy with the answer.

"But you're in the same classes," she huffed.

Mercedes closed her locker door. "Look, I don't know where Brittany is. Maybe she got grounded for lying. Or maybe she's sick," Mercedes shrugged and started walking to her next class.

Santana followed Mercedes to her class to see if Brittany was already in it and she wasn't. Mercedes watched Santana's face fall before telling her that she could ask her mom to call Nancy— an idea that brightened up Santana's face for a full second.

Of course the effort was useless. The very next day Mrs. Jones sadly told her daughter and Santana that the house number was disconnected. So was Nancy's cellphone.

After 5 Brittany-less days at school, Santana managed to convince Will to let Puck drive her to the other side of the town, to the Geoffreys' residence. She didn't want Will to get into trouble. She knew Doug wouldn't hesitate to abuse his power to get rid of Will from McKinley.

During the whole drive, her stomach felt like there were restless miniature wild horses living inside it even though Puck kept telling her that it was going to be alright; that Brittany would just be resting in bed from a nasty cold and that was what keeping her from going to school. But that was too good to be true. Santana already knew that she was going to find something awful once they get there, and she was right. They were greeted by nothing but an empty house and a For Sale sign plunged into the ground right on the front yard.

Santana didn't cry about it. She couldn't. Instead, she made herself busy. She spent weeks calling everyone whom she thought would have information about the Geoffreys. She called Maria (she had no idea what happened) and Brittany's dance studio (_"I'm sorry, we don't have their current address. We wouldn't be able to tell you anyway if we did."_). Then, as a last resort, she repeatedly bugged the principal and demanded him to hand over Brittany's records (_"Ms. Lopez, I really should put you in detention for disrupting my office hours. But, given the circumstances, I'm going to let this go as long as you don't bother me again."_).

So, no, Santana didn't have time to cry. But she totally would if she did.

oOoOo

A few days before Christmas holiday, Santana came out of a classroom spotting a blonde girl staring at the lockers— her and Brittany's lockers, to be precise— so she ran down the hallway as fast as she could with a big smile on her face. She couldn't believe it. She had been waiting for the day to come and it was finally here.

_Brittany is back! Brittany is ba—_

"Oh, hello," the blonde girl greeted and the first thing Santana noticed was her eyes. They're hazel and not blue.

"I'm Lu—Quinn," the girl offered a handshake while rolling her eyes looking like she was cursing herself. "I'm Quinn. What's your name?"

"Santana."

"Nice to meet you, Santana," Quinn smiled, showing off her pearl white teeth. Santana only managed a small smile before, disappointedly, turning around and opening her locker.

"Oh, cool! We're locker buddies," said Quinn excitedly. "That is… if I could figure out how to open it. They gave me the combo but I don't think it's the right one," she sighed looked at a small piece of paper in her hand. "I should just go back to the office and ask for the right combo."

Santana stayed quiet, but she moved her hands to turn the lock like how she always did for Brittany.

When the locker door opened, Quinn's big eyes grew even wider. "How did you do that? I've been trying to open it for like… half an hour!"

Santana tucked a strand of hair behind her ear. "That locker was my best friend's," she mumbled before her breathing hitched.

She realized that she just used past tense and there was no virtue in it. It was like something snapped inside her and she was suddenly surrounded by water. Drowning without a choice.

_The locker was Brittany's and now it's not anymore. They gave her locker away because she's not coming back. Brittany is not coming back._

Santana didn't have time to cry. But now, sobbing and sitting helpless on the floor with her knees up to her chest, and with the new girl watching her dumbfounded, she wished she could have all the time in the world to cry.


	16. Numbers

**April 8****th**** 2010**

It had been 6 months since Santana was chosen to be Number Two to Quinn Fabray's Captain position for the cheerleading squad, securing her position on top of the food chain of the McKinley High School. Students parted like the red sea whenever they pass by, giving room for superiority.

She liked it. She liked it a lot.

She liked that it gave her an excuse to be a bitch without holding the responsibilities of a Captain. Bossing people around was just one of her callings. So were giving death glares, pointing out mistakes and coming up with lines to build and tear people down at the same time _("It's called tough love, America's Next Top Skank. You better take off that nose ring before Sue gets here. And for God's sake take a shower. You smell like Pepe Le Pew in heat._).

In all honesty, though, she liked that she gets to just dance around to music during practices. She liked that it made her spend less time talking to a tree and she liked that she gets to spend a lot of time with a good friend. The bottom line was, she liked that it made her think less of… other things.

oOoOo

It had been one year and exactly one month since Will asked her to be a member of a stupid choir that he was teaching. And all because she was a cheerleader— not because she could sing.

She was going to refuse because, really, it offended her that Will only wanted her there because he thought she could pull a couple of other cheerleaders, or at least Quinn, into the club. To think that Will had heard her sing, and play the piano, before. _The nerve._

But she saw how desperate Will had looked when he told her the club was going to be disbanded if they couldn't find more members. He went on and on about how sad the kids were going to be if the found out. It was annoying, but it was one of those stories that she couldn't help but relate to.

If anyone knew the scary feeling you get when you're about to lose something, it's Santana.

So she rolled her eyes, said yes and promised to bring at least Quinn with her. But she added a condition at the end: people above 29 aren't allowed to rap. And by 'people', she meant Will. She had heard stories and she wasn't going to take anymore of the secondhand embarrassment.

The promise earned her a big bear hug from the man, which she returned, but it distracted her from the promise that _he_ was supposed to make. Two weeks later he busted a move in the choir room while rapping to— what else?— Young MC's Bust A Move.

Mercedes Jones, as expected, was also a member of that club and even though they hadn't really been talking for more than a year (social status and all that) Santana found her to be the same girl that she had spent time with through out middle school. Nice, sometimes loud and a total powerhouse when she sang.

She sort of regretted that they drifted away, but high school is a scary jungle and it's all about knowing which animals to kill, which ones to step on and which ones to avoid altogether. Besides, it wasn't like she was _that _awful to Mercedes. In fact, Mercedes was one of the very few people that she kept civil with. It was never out of spite that Santana avoided her, it was out of grief.

"Hey," Santana heard Mercedes whisper. "I know he's practically your dad—"

"Ew," Santana brought her hand to her chest and closed her eyes dramatically.

"—but please tell him to stop."

Santana glanced at Will who was doing the worm in front of the class. A few kids did cat calls and it boosted his confidence so much that he started doing body rolls.

Santana rolled her eyes and whispered back. "How 'bout _you_ tell him to stop? I'm busy trying to block this cheap karaoke version of a cheap 1989 one hit wonder out of my head."

"Satan, I ain't no miracle worker. You go do it."

Santana did a double take. She looked to Quinn, who was sitting to her left, to see if she heard what Mercedes just said. Of course, she didn't. Too busy throwing tiny paper balls at Rachel Berry.

"Did you just call me Satan?"

"I… yeah, I kinda did," Mercedes admitted nervously. It was the first time ever since Santana last talked to her. Surely she hadn't just screw it up?

Santana squinted her eyes and Mercedes gulped loudly.

"I like it," Santana let her words hang in the air, "Wheezy."

She gave Mercedes a smile— a _real_ smile— and they both grinned. It was like old times for a little while, before they both remembered the last puzzle piece that was missing.

It had blonde hair and blue eyes.

oOoOo

It had been 2 years, 2 months and 3 weeks since Quinn dragged her to the gym, to shake their booty to an embarrassingly amateur routine in front of their soon-to-be coach, Sue Sylvester.

She still remembered it like it was yesterday. The nauseating feeling before they auditioned, the way Sue had squinted her eyes before telling their 'lazy round butts' to start shaking, but most importantly, the way Sue stopped their routine halfway.

Santana's heart dropped when it happened. As Sue scribbled something furiously on her clipboard, she shared confused glances with Quinn, trying to figure out what had gone wrong and who screwed up.

"Well, Longoria, Barbie," Sue looked pointedly at both of them. "Congratulations. Not only did you make me want to throw up midgets like a Volkswagen at a circus, you also succeeded making my eyes bleed with that horrendous choreography."

From the corner of her eyes, Santana could see Quinn slowly finding the gym floor very interesting. She, herself, could feel her blood boiling from hearing Sue's comments. She bit the inside of her cheek to keep her from saying something she could be regretting later.

"Well, what are you waiting for? Get out of my face!" Sue yelled again. "Wednesdays! 3.15 sharp! Be there so I can kick your butts in shape!"

Trying out for the Cheerios was probably the best idea Quinn had came up with. She had to admit; her blonde friend was full of good ones. Most of the time, that is, when she wasn't busy making googley eyes with a giant dork who was in the football team named Finn— or when she wasn't busy making googley eyes with Puck.

Yes. Puck.

The boy she lived with. The boy who didn't set the toilet seat back after using the bathroom. The boy who kept bugging her to introduce him to her 'hot friends'.

But he was also the boy who never took a break from looking out for her. He was the boy who would just keep her company sitting out on the porch until Emma called for dinner. Sometimes they'd talk, sometimes they fight just because they could, but most of the time they just stay quiet with an understanding of what was in each other's mind.

So… she guessed she didn't mind that much if Puck and Quinn started dating. It wasn't like they were going to make out in front of her in her own house.

Oh, wait.

Yeeaaah… that totally happened before.

oOoOo

It had been 2 years, 2 months, 2 weeks and 5 days since Will found out that Santana had been sneaking into his office to play the piano. The night it happened, Santana didn't know that Will was stuck being the designated driver at one of the his coworkers' farewell party. Neither did she know he would come home at 2 in the morning, right when she was in the middle of Feist's Now At Last.

She got into Feist's music a little late, as Lima, Ohio, wasn't the best town when it comes to discovering independent artists. In fact, the first time Santana heard about her was from an iPod commercial on TV. But once she made the effort of listening to all of Feist's albums, the music grew on her fast.

Santana loved the piano ballad especially. It was easy to play, and the words were just… she couldn't even describe it. It was like they expressed everything in her mind in a way that she couldn't. They were sad, depressing and bleak just like her heart and soul, and perfectly matched the season.

"_What makes winters lonely_?" she sang the last line._ "Now at last I know."_

"You're very good," Santana heard a voice from the door and saw Will with a big smile on his face.

Santana's eyes widened. She really didn't expect Will to be up at that hour. "Sorry," she got up on her feet. She _did _sneak into the office but, technically, she didn't break any rules because Will had given his permission. So why was she panicking?

Santana shut the piano and walked hurriedly to the door. "Good night," she told him again.

"Whoa, hey, stop," Will chuckled. She took a step and stood between Santana and the door. "What are you sorry for? I told you to come in here anytime you want. I just wasn't expecting to find you her at," he looked at his wrist watch, "2.30 AM on a school night."

Santana crossed her arms. She was really not in the mood for a conversation. Now that Will had heard her play, _and_ sing, it was as if she had no secrets left to call her own.

"I mean it. You're really, really good. I didn't know you could play so well! And that voice, I mean," Will let out a breath. He ran his fingers through his hair and smiled so big that Santana shifted uncomfortably. "Wow. Just… wow."

"Thanks," Santana casually replied with a small smile, her panic gone. Mostly, it was just a mild case of embarrassment that was left bubbling inside. It felt really nice to have someone complimenting her. "Can I go now? It's late and I got school in the morning."

"Oh, yeah," Will nodded and stepped aside. When Santana was half way out the door, he spoke again. "But don't think you're not gonna get grounded for staying up past your curfew."

The next time she snuck into Will's office, she found a big pile of sheet music, old songs and new, on top of the piano with a note attached to it.

_Santana,_

_As a punishment, you're going to learn these songs._

_Have fun :-)_

_Will_

oOoOo

It had been exactly 3 years since she told Quinn about her parents and it was only because the blonde girl caught her in a moment of weakness.

Lord Tubbington was very sick. He wouldn't stop throwing up his guts and Santana had to take care of him. Not because nobody else in the house wanted to, but because she didn't trust anyone with _their_ cat.

After more than 24 hours of no sleep, Santana finally surrendered to Emma's suggestion and took the cat to the vet. The doctor, who was probably only a little bit older than Will, told her that Lord Tubbington might've had swallowed something poisonous like mothballs and that he was very weak after losing so much fluid overnight. The doctor also told her that his chance of survival depended entirely on whether or not the poison damaged his stomach.

Santana watched as the doctor attached an IV to the poor cat. She finally broke down when she realized that the reason why Lord Tubbington didn't flinch when the needle went into him was not because he didn't feel it. It was because he couldn't.

When Quinn found her (or almost ran her over or whatever), Santana was a mess. Her eyes were red, puffy and tired. There were leftover tears down her face and Quinn could even still hear residual sniffles that resulted from (what she assumed to be) Santana's heavy crying.

The moment Quinn asked her what was wrong, Santana just fell to pieces. She sobbed into her friend's hug, telling a tangled story about a cat, her best friend, and finally about her parents.

It was far less than detailed, as the story mostly sounded like gibberish, but Quinn got the gist of it. It didn't take her much to figure it all out when her friend kept asking, "why do I keep losing?" over and over again.

oOoOo

It had been 4 years, 3 months and 3 weeks since Santana bought two bracelet charms for the first time. One was a piano that she attached to her own bracelet, the other one a unicorn that she put into a tiny box wrapped with a bow, which she then put under the decorated tree in the living room along with the other presents.

Nobody opened the box the next week, as it had nobody else's name except for the one person who wasn't there.

The box had been resting in a one of Santana's drawers since then, with her piece of old newspaper and many other tiny boxes that she was keeping safe until the rightful owner returns.

oOoOo

It had been 4 years, 4 months, 1 week and 3 days since Brittany was taken away in the middle of the night.

But who was counting?

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><p><em><strong>AN:** Yay fast update! And yeah, it's a short chapter, I know. Since this chapter is purely to establish a time jump, I thought it shouldn't get too long :P_

_To **prattle01, harryDOTgeurtsDOT9 **(FF kept thinking your username is a URL haha)**, Brittanaendgames, ty, Baron von teddy** (lol I love your name) and **xSantanaAndBrittanyAreMyLifex,** thank you for your reviews and comments. They seriously made my day. Also got me too excited about this story and ended up abandoning work altogether. I'm gonna be pulling a loooot of all-nighters because of this. LOL. :) :) :)_

_Oh and thanks for everyone who clicked the magic buttons and put this story in their follow & favorite lists. Woo! You rock :D_


	17. Author's Note

**A/N:**

Dear all,

I'm just letting you know that I'm going to publish what might be disturbing chapters real soon. While these chapters have nothing graphic at all and in fact has the least number of words compared to the other chapters, if you think reading abuse in any form would be a trigger for you, please skip all the chapters with "Hell" in front of them.

If you're currently in an abusive situation, please tell someone. And if you know someone who's going through abuse, please reach out to them.

Let's take care of each other :)

And finally, thanks for all the reviews. I haven't had the time to reply to all of them but I will :)

-me.


	18. Hell, February 2006

**Hell, February 2006**

_"Hey, pretty girl. Wanna play a game? Let's play a game."_

* * *

><p><em>AN: No, there's nothing wrong with FF nor with your browser. That's it. That's the whole chapter. I did say in my Author's note that I was going to post several chapters with the least number of words, right? Here they are. Well, at least one of them. I'll post more within these few next days. You'll see what I'm trying to accomplish. It might not necessarily work— cause you know, how you read a story is relative. If you like it, you like it.. if you don't, then you don't. I know I can't please everybody :)_

_Anyhoo. Trust me, I got my plans for this one. :) :)_

_Thanks, BTW, for those who made sure there wasn't an error :D _


	19. Hell, 2007

**Hell, 2007**

_"Ssh. It's okay, baby. Your mother's asleep. You don't want to wake her up, do you?"_

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_"Fuck. Just touch it."_


	20. Hell, 2008

**Hell, 2008**

_"I'm your daddy, and good girls do what their fathers say."_

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_"I just want to show you how much I love you, that's all."_

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_"Aw, come on. Stop crying. I know you liked it."_


	21. Hell, 2009

**Hell, 2009**

_"She knows, baby. But let's keep this our secret, okay? I love you so much, sweetie."_

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_"Be quiet! What's the matter with you?!"_

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__"God damn it, Brittany! Look what you've done! You got blood all over the sheets!"_  
><em>

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__"Shut up! SHUT THE FUCK UP!"__


	22. Awake

_**A/N: **Change of plans. No more Hell for now. I feel like I've tortured all of us enough lol._

_I think I've replied to almost every registered member's reviews/PMs so here's for the rebels ;)_

_**• J:** Thank you for saying it's scary! Isn't Doug a creep? Lord. :|_

_**• KK:** Be careful what you wished for lol._

_•** Cyan55:** Aw, you're sweet! 16 chapters in 1 day? I feel like I need to give you an award xD_

_**• MissAB:** Best compliment ever, I don't think I deserve it x) I don't know how I helped you but I'm glad if I did. You can register and PM me anytime if you wanna talk or whatever :)_

_As always, thanks for the faves, follows and reviews! you guys rock & rule :D_

_Enjoy!_

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><p><strong>April 16, 2010<strong>

Santana started the day the way she always started her days.

First, she would wake up around 10 minutes_ before_ her alarm went off. Then she'd toss and turn in her bed, hoping that she would 'accidentally' fall back to sleep for another 9 minutes. Then, when she finally accepted that it could never ever happen, she'd rid the blanket off her face and stared at the ceiling just because it was directly in her line of sight.

On bad days, she would start thinking about the past. Her mom. Her dad. She would reach into the nightstand's drawer and pull out her old piece of newspaper and read it. Other times she'd try to remember the last time she went to visit their graves and wonder if 2004 was a good year. Sometimes she'd try to talk herself into buying beautiful flowers and visiting the cemetery. So far, no luck.

Her next ritual was to lie on her side to face an empty bed. It was a small bed, identical to hers. The only difference was that the bed was all neat and tidy. Not a wrinkle on the sheet, not a sleepy teenage girl in it.

Emma sat her down one day, about a year after Doug took Brittany away, and asked Santana if she wanted the room to herself. Santana remembered being confused when Emma asked her the question. She was already living in it alone, what was Emma talking about? But then it dawned on her. Emma was asking if she was ready to part with Brittany— or at least with what belonged to her a long, long time ago.

She remembered answering. She said she'd think about it when, in reality, there was nothing to ponder. She just didn't know how to say it.

She walked around like a zombie that whole morning, tuning everything and everyone out. She didn't even care so much about whatever it was Quinn was yammering about. It was something about boys and letterman jackets. Not important.

Mercedes found her in the bathroom right after lunch. Well, actually, she followed her to the bathroom. By that time, they had already drifted apart. There was too much pity in Mercedes' face that was solely dedicated to her whenever they talked and Santana didn't like how the other girl was looking at her. And don't even get her started on Kurt's consoling efforts. She could only take 13 pity sleepover invitations from him and Mercedes before she finally pushed them away.

Luckily, Mercedes wasn't one to just let anybody cry by themselves. She locked the door and waited until Santana finished crying. When she got out of the stalls, Mercedes surprised her with a gentle hug.

"_We don't have to be friends anymore, and I don't know why you're crying,"_ said Mercedes._ "But whenever you want to cry, I'm still here."_ And that was the reason why Santana never could cut Mercedes completely out of her life.

She was glad she never could.

When she got home that afternoon Santana barged right into the kitchen and told Emma that she didn't want things to change. _"What if she comes back?" _Santana asked with a cracked voice._ "She's gonna see that her bed is gone and that we forgot about her. I haven't. I don't want to."_

Emma choked back her tears and pulled Santana into a hug. The teenager unwillingly broke down for the second time that day.

"_Okay, Santana," _Emma stroked the hair of the crying girl. _"We're not taking away anything. We'll just keep things the way they are, okay?"_

And now, here she was, looking at an empty bed her best friend used to occupy and sometimes jump on.

"Morning, B," Santana greeted a memory and spent a few minutes waiting for an answer.

Every single morning, she had to accept that she was never going to get one.

oOoOo

Quinn Fabray was really good at reading people. Maybe it was because she was raised in a pretentious household, or maybe it was simply a gift, but it was easy for her to separate the ones worth her time from the ones who would only waste it. For example, the icky pale boy who walked around with hair that looked like a botched perm job that Santana referred as JBI— Jacob Ben Insufferable. Yeah, he was definitely going to waste her time. So she decided to never give him the satisfaction.

Every once in a while, though, usually after catching him perving after some girls' boobs in the hallways, she'd order him slushie facials because what's better to cool off than a cold shower?

An _ice_ cold shower.

A long time ago, she decided that Santana Lopez was someone who was worth her time. Not because the girl completely broke down in front of her less than 5 minutes after they met, but because Santana never gave up hope after that.

There was a lot of occasions during her first months of school when Quinn would watch Santana talk to the lunch lady, giving her dollar bills in exchange for quarters. It wasn't long before Santana started eating only apples during lunch. She didn't have a lot of money left to buy anything else.

One time, Quinn gathered her courage and asked Santana what the quarters were for. Santana's answer? A mere, "I have to find someone."

Later that week, Quinn followed Santana to a payphone outside the school and saw Santana looking through the phonebook, writing on the pages as she was making calls. She waited until Santana was done before playing detective and looked through the pages herself. Lucky for her, Santana had left the book open. She soon found out that Santana was calling every Geoffrey she could find in the phone book.

She didn't know who this Geoffrey person Santana was looking for, but word got around at school that a _Brittany Geoffrey_ was missing. But, of course, it was middle school and kids gossip more than they breathe so Quinn never believed the stories.

She deducted this much though: Santana was looking for a friend who used to own her locker and that friend's last name was Geoffrey. Ergo, Santana's missing friend was Brittany Geoffrey.

Kids and their gossips could be vicious sometimes. The stories revolving around Brittany's disappearance were unbelievable. She was either kidnapped, murdered, or murdered her kidnappers while running away. Quinn couldn't even begin to imagine how Santana handled hearing all those things and still hold hope in her heart for her friend to come back.

So one day, she stepped in front of Santana when she was going to the lunch lady and handed her new phone. Her dear old conservative, yet very generous father had given it to her as a 'welcome to your new life' present.

"_It has unlimited minutes,"_ said Quinn. _"You don't have to pay anything. Use it all you want, just... return it before we have to go home."_

Santana looked at Quinn, then at the phone, then at Quinn again as the blonde girl practically shoved it into her hands.

"_Why?"_ she asked.

"_You have to find someone,"_ Quinn shrugged. _"Go find them."_

"_What's in it for you?"_

_"Be my friend?" _Quinn smiled at her and Santana slowly took the phone.

Not one day did Quinn ever regret her decision.

"I'm bored," Quinn told Santana. They were both relieved from class because the Almighty Sue Sylvester had demanded their allegiance to take care of the Cheerios' new uniforms and equipment while she attend her spiritual cleansing— a.k.a. mud bath at the newest spa salon downtown.

"Same here," Santana pinched the bridge of her nose. "My eyes hurt from reading all these documents."

"Let's just ditch these."

Santana raised an eyebrow. "And have Sue hang us from the flag pole? No, thanks."

"Oh, come on. I didn't mean leave it just like that. We'll come back. I just need a break," Quinn cracked her neck left and right.

Santana looked at the papers on top of Sue's desk. There were 2 piles. One has all the stuff they hadn't read yet, the other was the ones they carefully read, memorized and signed (as Sue, of course). The second pile was higher than the first. Maybe it was okay for them to take a walk or something.

She bit her lip. "Fine," she said. "But only for 10 minutes, okay? I don't want Sue up my grill and make me run laps later."

"Awesome," Quinn grinned and walked to the door. "Come on!"

"Where are we going?"

"D'uh. The one place Sue's not going to find us."

Santana's smile grew. She knew exactly where they were going: the choir room.

The best thing about the choir room was that it was never occupied during actual class hours. It was mostly there for club purposes, therefore it was always empty. The other best thing about it was that Sue demanded that Figgins moved it to the furthermost part of the school because she, "couldn't stand the screeching sound of those mewing, untalented sheep." She also said that she could smell Will's cheap hair gel from 10 miles away and that it made her nauseous.

Those things combined, it was the perfect time and place to get her music on. Nobody was going to hear her play and sing. Quinn was allowed though. She had been around long enough. She knew what Santana could do and vice versa.

Santana thought about this a lot— how funny it was that she had let Quinn step into her bubble, even if she didn't let her go as far as Brittany did. She had to admit, there were times during their first week as classmates when she had to resist snapping at Quinn just because she was sick of hearing her humming to whatever song she had in her head at the moment. But every time she opened up her mouth to say something evil, she heard Brittany's voice in her head, telling her to not be a monster— to give Quinn a chance.

"Let's play something," Quinn sat on the bench, motioning to her friend so that she'd join her.

Santana walked over and set her fingers on the keys. "What do you wanna hear?"

"Something old."

"Ah, my specialty."

Quinn smirked. "I know right? Actually I only said that cause you're an old lady."

Santana rolled her eyes but smiled nonetheless. "Shut up."

"I'm kidding," Quinn chuckled. "Something Motown? Mr. Schue's been telling me I'd sound good with those songs. Ooh! Do you know any Jackson 5's I'll Be There? Or Mariah's version or whatever."

"Hmm," Santana hummed. Her fingers started traveling the piano to warm up and stall. She knew that song very well. She used to sing it with Antonio. She also sang it for Brittany before she became a Geoffrey.

"I do," she nodded. "But I'm not singing this time."

"What? Why?"

Santana shrugged. "I just don't feel like it. You go."

Quinn stared at Santana for a few moments before she opened her mouth. "Hey, don't sweat it," she put a hand on her friend's shoulder. "If you don't want to do this song, we can totally do something else."

"No, it's fine," Santana said stoically. Eyes on the piano.

Quinn retracted her hand. She knew Santana was building up her walls and she was going to let her. It could be exhausting having a friend who did everything she could to prevent the whole world from peering too closely into her life. They had been friends for more than 4 years, and yet she was still part of that world Santana was shutting out.

But if your friend were as broken her, wouldn't you do the same? Wouldn't you let her have her loneliness when she asked for it?

"If you say so," Quinn gave Santana an understanding smile and started singing.

Santana listened as Quinn filled the room with her soft-like-butter voice. It was so different than hers, than Mercedes', or even from Rachel Berry's, and it really gave the song a new touch. The kind of touch that would melt you straight away with sweetness.

Afraid that she would start crying if she didn't, Santana closed her eyes but kept her focus on playing the piano. After making sure that no tears were trying to escape her eyes, for the first time in a very long while, she prayed.

_Dear God, _Santana started, _Jesus and everybody else. I know we don't speak a lot and that's probably my fault for not going to church anymore, but please, wherever she is now, take care of Brittany. And if she's not okay, please make her remember her promise. Thank you. Okay, I'm gonna shut up now. Thanks again._

oOoOo

"You know what would be fun?" asked Will to his students. He was desperately trying to get them to engage more in Spanish class. Between maintaining their social statuses, relationships and all the different clubs they were in, nobody wanted to pay attention to the subjects anymore. "Let's all write our secrets on a piece of paper, in Spanish. We'll collect them all and read them out loud."

The classroom started to roar with protests. Some of them even left their seats. One thing was clear. None of his students wanted to spill out their guts.

"Hey, hey, hey, hey!" Will had to stop himself from fully snapping. "Sit down! I'm not finished yet. We'll do this anonymously! No one's gonna know it's your secret, okay? Now get a piece of paper. When you're done, fold it and bring it over to my desk. You got 3 minutes."

Five minutes rolled by easily and by then, everybody's secret was on Will's desk.

"Okay," Will scrambled the tiny folded papers with his hand and picked one up. "Let's read this one first. Raise your hand if you think you know what it means. If you get it right, you get a score. Ready?"

The students got excited once he mentioned the part about keeping scores. The footballers, especially. Santana and Mercedes looked at each other before rolling their eyes at the caveman qualities of their peer students.

"First one," Will raised his hand to quiet down the room. He read the secret out loud and chuckled. "_Me gustan los culos grandes y no puedo mentir._ Wow. What a way to start the game. Guesses anybody?"

Several hands shot up in the air with laughter.

"Jacob," Will called the boy's name and Santana scrunched her face in disgust. Why did he have to pick the most perverted boy of them all?

Jacob stood up and gave Will the answer. "I like big butts and I cannot lie!" he exclaimed and everyone roared with laughter, including Will.

"That's right," Will walked over to the whiteboard and wrote "Jacob: 1" on it. Jacob and his jewfro sat back down with an accomplished look in his face. Santana could swear she saw a bulge in his pants.

Ick.

"Next one," Will closed his eyes and picked another piece of paper. "_Yo quiero un novio como Jennifer López,_" he read and both him and Santana noticed the mistake. "Okay, let's hope this was an honest mistake. If not, it's gonna be _awkward_," he made a face and the students laughed even though most of them didn't even know what he was talking about. "Any guesses?"

A few hands shot up and Will pointed at one. "David."

The boy in question huffed. "It's Karofsky."

"Alright," Will smiled politely. "Karofsky."

"I want a boyfriend like Jennifer Lopez," he answered, and as soon as he was done, his teammates started teasing him.

"Guys, guys!" Will tried to stop the ruckus. "He was almost right. Technically it means _I want a groom like Jennifer Lopez. _Now, the person who wrote this one should've used _una novia_ instead of _un novio_ if they wanted to say _a girlfriend like Jennifer Lopez_. So it wasn't Dav— Karofsky's fault. Good job, Karofsky."

After jotting down a score under Karofsky's name on the board, Will went back to his desk to start all over again. Santana, and the rest of the class, had to admit the exercise was fun. Some secrets were boring, some were undecipherable because of the grammar and misspelling but most of them were ridiculous. This was so much better than following the textbook.

"_Yo quiero que ella vuelva a casa_," Will read the next paper and lifted it up in the air. "Any takers? It's an easy one."

A few of his students raised their hands up and Will picked Kurt. At first he got a lot of homophobic slurs from the football team, but Will quickly handled the situation by threatening to report them to coach Beiste. That shut them up.

"Go ahead, Kurt."

The boy nodded in gratitude. "It says, _I want her to come home_."

Santana suddenly felt she was burning. Even though nobody was staring at her, she couldn't help but think all eyes were on her and now everybody knew her secret. She looked up to find Will stealing a subtle knowing glance at her, and that annoyed her. Mercedes, who was sitting to her right, started to scratch an imaginary itch on her neck— Santana knew it was a habit done whenever she was nervous of something and it made her even more anxious. Like Mercedes was going to _out_ her.

It wasn't until the footballers started to joke around with the cliché line, probably the only Spanish line they knew, "_mi casa es su casa_," that she relaxed into her seat.

Once in a blue moon, those cavemen could be useful after all.

oOoOo

Not a day went by without Santana thinking about how much Brittany would've liked being a cheerleader. Not necessarily a Cheerio, but she would definitely enjoy all the dancing, twirling and smiling.

Ugh. Smiling. If there was something about performing as a cheerleader that Santana didn't like, it was the smiling. Aaaaaall the smiling. Even after being in the squad for a while now, she still hadn't got used to flashing her pearly whites for no reason but to flash them. In fact, it was the first thing she asked Quinn when the girl proposed the idea of being a Cheerio.

"_I'm going to have to smile a lot, don't I?"_

"_Well, d'uh. It's cheerleading. Not gloomleading, Santana," Quinn pressed the play button and a dance tune filled her backyard. They were going to come up with a routine so awesome, even Sue Sylvester's jaw would be on the floor (or so they had thought)._

_Santana scowled. "Remind me again why I'm doing this with you?"_

"_Because you love me and I'm awesome and we're going to take over the school?" Quinn grinned. But then that grin disappeared. Her face turned serious. Sincere. "And also because you need to be busy," she told Santana. _

_Santana rolled her eyes. "I don't need you to take care of me."_

_It was true, she didn't. But she wasn't going to lie, the thought of getting occupied and forgetting (almost) everything else sounded really good._

"_Don't flatter yourself," Quinn playfully scoffed. "I just figured you might like a reason to be a bitch when we're on top of the food chain. I'll be the sweet one, and you can be the bitter one. Team Bittersweet for the win! Woo!" Quinn threw her arms up and shook her pompoms mockingly._

"_Why the hell do I get to be the bitter one?" Santana rested her hands on her hips, not amused with Quinn's proposition._

"_Hey, you're the one who doesn't wanna smile. I'm just giving you what you want. Now come on," Quinn grabbed her wrist and pulled Santana so that they had a good distance between them. "We only have a week before the try-out."_

A voice in her ear pulled Santana out of the memory. She just realized that Quinn was on the phone with her. They were going to a party later and they have been talking about tonight's gameplan."

"What are you thinking about?" the blonde girl asked. "I was calling your name like 10 times."

"Nothing, sorry" Santana shook her head as if Quinn could see her. "Hey, remember the new girl who bought the squad those chocolate bouquets?" she asked and got a hum from the other side of the line. "She has potential. What's her name again?"

"That's, um," Quinn trailed off, trying to remember a name. "Motta. Sugar Motta."

Santana frowned. "Her real name is Sugar? Seriously?"

Quinn nodded. "Dead serious. Apparently she has a sister called Cinnamon."

"Wow."

"Yeah. Wow. Although I kinda like that name. Cinnamon."

"Sounds like a stripper name," Santana held the phone between her neck and shoulder. She was putting on make up to make sure she looked… presentable. Okay maybe slightly more than just 'presentable'. More like smoking hot. "But I figured you'd like it."

"Really?" Quinn was intrigued. She then plopped down in front of her vanity. One hand applying eye shadow. "Why?"

Santana shrugged. "I don't know. It's just that… _I_ don't like either names. But um… _Brittany_ would've liked them both. And…"

"And what?" pressed Quinn. If she was surprised that Santana mentioned Brittany's name in a conversation, she didn't show it.

"I don't know," she shrugged again and huffed. She really didn't. "I guess I just realized that you're like 50% me, and 50% her. Like a sweeter version of a bitch. Or a bitchier version of something sweet, so you'd be right in the middle and like one of the two names."

"Oh. Okay," Quinn nodded and smiled into the phone. Getting Santana to talk about Brittany, voluntarily, was a big accomplishment. "I'll take that as a compliment."

"Best one I'll ever give you, bitch," Santana joked. She could practically hear Quinn's eye roll. "Hey, are we going with Puck later?"

"We're not on speaking terms right now," Quinn huffed. She caught him flirting with another Cheerio the other day and it did not amuse her at all. Sure, they were nothing exclusive and she had been kind of, sort of, seeing Finn Hudson behind Puck's back, but that didn't mean he could do it too. "He's—"

"You know what?" Santana cut her off. "You can spare me the details. I already feel awkward about you mackin' each other's faces off."

Quinn chuckled. "Fine, I'll spare you."

"Are you still picking me up, though? Want me to meet you there instead?"

"No! I mean, yeah! I'm still picking you up at 9. I don't want to arrive at the party alone," Quinn told her. "You just need to make sure your _brother_ is either still in his room, or already gone when I get there."

"Okay, I can manage that," Santana applied her lipgloss and smacked her lips in front of the mirror. Now it was just a matter of finding the right outfit. Despite what people think, being one of the top bitches at school and all, she didn't like looking like trash.

Just when she was about to open the closet, she heard the bell. She clicked her tongue. Emma and Will were on a getaway trip and wouldn't be back until Sunday night. She perked her ear and heard the shower— and faint singing. Clearly Puck couldn't get the door either.

"Ugh, someone's at the door," she told Quinn with a huff of annoyance.

"At," Quinn paused. Santana assumed she was possibly looking at the clock.  
>"Eight thirty at night?"<p>

"I know right?" Santana walked out of her room and down the staircase. "It's probably just one of the guys from the football team. Probably picking him up for pregame or something."

"Ah," said Quinn. "Makes sense."

"Hold on a sec. Let me open the door," Santana told her friend. "Don't hang up yet, okay?"

"Sure," Quinn picked up her brush and continued putting on peach colored blush on her cheeks.

If she were to describe that moment when she opened the door, Santana would've probably said it was like turning around to see that you were about to hit by a train. For a split second your soul just floats outside your body and witness everything in slow motion, before somebody, luckily, pushed you over and saved you from being just pieces of meat on the ground. Shortly after that, your soul reunites with your body and you start to feel the ground beneath the soles of your feet.

"Hi," Santana managed to speak after blinking her eyes several times.

She really didn't expect to see this person who was standing on the porch at all, let alone to have them lunge and collapse on top of her. They both fell backwards with a loud thud and Santana could hear Quinn's panic voice through the receiver.

"Santana?" called Quinn. "Santana, what is it?"

Santana, who had just bumped her head on the floor, took a few second to clear her head from the shock. When she realized what just happened, and that there was an unconscious person sprawled on the floor with her, her eyes widened.

"Oh my God. Puck!" Santana yelled at the top of her lungs and it worried Quinn. She heard that loud thud but never got a reply about what was going on. Now that Santana was yelling for Puck, she was definitely alarmed.

"Santana! Talk to me!" screamed Quinn through the line and Santana brought the phone up to her face.

"Puck! Goddammit, Puck! help me!" Santana yelled louder before talking to Quinn again. "Q, I'm sorry, I just… I have to go okay? I'm not going to the party either. Sorry."

"What the hell? Are you serious? Santana, what's going on?"

"Quinn! I really can't talk right now, okay? I'll talk to you soon," Santana snapped and pressed the End button on the phone.

She looked at the guest on her lap and tried to get rid their hair from their face.

"Hey," Santana tucked a strand behind their ear very, very gently. "Hey, you okay?"

A pair of blue eyes slowly opened and Santana sighed her relief.

"You're pretty," the person said with sleepy eyes and a faint smile. Santana laughed— and started to cry at the same time because the déjà vu was too overwhelming for her poor soul.

"I kept my promise, San," she said before the frail guest closed her eyes completely.

A pinky was offered to her and even though she wasn't sure what the promise was about, Santana wrapped it with her own. The long lost (but never forgotten) friend smiled weakly at the contact.

Santana may had started her day like any other days, but never in a million years did she think it was going to end like this.


	23. Touches

**A/N: **Awww! The best thing about reading the reviews is that you all give me that much amount of encouragement to write more! Thank you!

Also, I love reading how much you (we!) all love Brittany. I would like to thank Heather Morris for giving us her version of sweet, lovable Brittany that we all end up caring so much about this character.

**Messages for the rebels:**

**• NYABG:** Aw! OK, I feel bad for saying this but I'm happy I made you cry! Also I LOL'd reading how you cried 'like a little whale'. Well now I need to find a baby whale and watch as it cries. Thank you for your kind words, but I'm nowhere near 'amazing' x) I got plenty to learn.

**• MissAB:** You're welcome :D :D

**• Guest:** Dear you. Thank you, thank you, thank you for telling me all those kind words! Also you read my mind like you're inside it LOL. Hopefully I'm gonna do Brittany's story justice omgahh. I'm nervous now x)

By the way, someone sent in a question via PM but I accidentally deleted the message (SO SO SORRY!) so I couldn't reply directly. They asked me if I could transform this fic into a song, what would it be. Ack! O_o such a tough question, but let me just tell you that **Sad Eyes **by** Bat for Lashes** inspired this story. In fact, I wrote this last chapter Not necessarily all the lyrics, but just the overall feeling I got from the song.

My favorite line (or least favorite cause it's sad): "And when you smile those sad eyes look sadder and sadder still. / I can tell that you're lonely, but it seems now there's nothing you want me to do / So I won't try to take the sadness from those eyes that I love / Leave it open for someone else to."

But um.. I do have a playlist for this fic. Sad AND sweet songs :) :)

* * *

><p><strong>April 18, 1010 – 9.13 PM<strong>

Puck had carried Brittany up to the girls' room and laid her down gently on her old bed. He canceled his plans for the night, ignoring his phone that had been ringing nonstop from supposed fellow partygoers. Santana tried to talk him out of it, convincing him that it was perfectly fine for him to leave her alone with Brittany, and that he should have his fun, but the boy was adamant about not going out. He didn't say it much with his words, but the look in his eyes told Santana that it wasn't only her who had been waiting for Brittany to magically appear in front of their eyes.

Puck disappeared into the kitchen and came back to the room with heated leftover, a glass of water and Emma's soft baked cookies. He knew how much Brittany loved them.

"In case she wakes up hungry," he said, putting down the tray on Santana's nightstand.

Santana gave him an appreciative smile and scooted further down her bed so that there was room for Puck to sit with her. When he sat down, she rested her head on his shoulder. She wouldn't have normally done anything like it, but tonight was obviously not what you would call a normal night.

"Where do you think she's been?" Puck asked her.

Santana answered quietly. Truthfully. "I don't know."

She wished she had known the answer, though. She wished there had been phone calls, letters, messenger pigeons or whatever else that could explain why someone whose whereabouts was unknown could just show up out of nowhere in the middle of the night.

"She needs to change," Puck pointed at Brittany— at a part of her jeans that had a large dark brown stain. He hoped it was mud. Oh, how he hoped it was just mud.

"Did she bring a bag?" Puck looked at Santana. "I didn't see one downstairs. Maybe she left it outside?"

Santana shook her head, not taking her eyes from Brittany. "No," she answered. "She was just… standing there."

Puck made little nods. "Do you think we should call Will and Emma?"

Santana thought about it for a few seconds. On one hand, this was definitely the type of situation that would require adult supervision and/or assistance, because from where she was standing right now, it didn't look like Brittany got (anybody's) approval to show on their doorstep in the middle of the night. But, on the other hand, a part of her wanted to cherish this moment. She had been waiting for so long for this to happen and now that it finally did, she just wanted to keep Brittany all to herself for as long as she could.

Puck, seeing the many emotions going through Santana's face finally gave her an escape.

"Maybe we don't have to," he said. "It's gonna be a long drive for them to come back so it wouldn't have made a difference. They're still gonna be here tomorrow."

If there was ever a moment in which Santana's desire to give Puck a hug completely overtook her, this was it. She launched herself at him and thanked him for not asking her to make the decision in the form of a hug.

"Okay, then, that settles it. We're just gonna wait until they're home," he patted the top of her head. "You better start changing her clothes. Can't be comfortable sleeping in that," he pointed at Brittany and Santana looked over her shoulder.

Puck was right. The clothes Brittany was wearing was so dirty, Santana couldn't be sure if her shirt was really crème-colored or was originally white.

"Do you need a shirt? I think your stuff is gonna be too small for her."

"No, it's fine," Santana replied. Finally pulling out of the hug. "I got an oversized sweatshirt I got from Sue. It'll fit her."

"Alright… I'll leave you to it. I'll be next door, okay? Call me if you need me," said Puck as he walked out the room, closing the door behind him.

Santana sat back on her bed for a few moments after grabbing some things from her closet and watched her friend sleep. There was something different about Brittany's face, she noted. She couldn't pinpoint what, but looking back to moments before, when she had just found Brittany out on the porch, she thought Brittany looked tired. But not the kind of tired you'd get from running a marathon. Just… tired.

Santana's phone buzzed in her pocket and she pulled it out. It was Quinn.

**_Santana, idk what's going on but when you can, let me know if everything's alright? xo_**

Santana huffed. She slid open her phone and typed in a reply. After all, Quinn deserved it. She had stuck around being her closest friend these last 4 years even though she knew how messed up she was in the head. Besides, Quinn would just send her more texts if she didn't get a reply soon.

She did, however, appreciate the fact that Quinn didn't ask for anything more than a confirmation.

**_Hey Q. Sorry for making you worried. Everything's OK, thanks. Talk soon. _**

After putting the phone back in her pocket, Santana watched Brittany again. This time, seeing what 4 years had done to her. As soon as she got rid of Brittany's blonde strands from her face, she could see dark bags under Brittany's eyes, making her exhaustion even more obvious now. Her blonde hair looked like it was coated by ash, so dull and not as bright as it was years ago.

Brittany stirred in her sleep and pulled Santana out of her thoughts. "The cat's running away…"

Santana tilted her head to the side out of amusement. "What's that, B?"

"Noooo, ice cream fell off…" Brittany mumbled again and Santana chuckled. She then moved to start changing Brittany to more comfortable sleeping attire.

With little struggle from the sleeping girl, Santana started to carefully remove her shoes and jeans. She was uncomfortable at first, having never undressing anybody before, but once she reminded herself that she was doing it for Brittany, she was set.

"Oh my god," she gasped when Brittany's pants were halfway down her legs.

There were bruises. Everywhere and in every color imaginable. Which meant that someone had been constantly giving her those bruises for a long time.

Santana covered her mouth with her hand, even more shocked when she found scratches with those bruises. They didn't look like fingernails made them. The angles were too random. Some of them already healed, but more than half were deep enough to still stain the inside of her jeans with tiny spots of blood.

Santana started crying when she saw that the bruises continued to cover Brittany's inner thighs, and even over her underwear line. Bruises on the outer part of your thighs could mean anything. It could only mean that you're a super clumsy person who inevitably bumps into tables, but bruises all over the other side could only mean one thing: they were done unto you.

By that logic, Santana whipped out her phone again and started to take pictures. Just in case. She had seen enough episodes of Law & Order. She sort of knew what to do. Kind of.

Brittany stirred again and Santana wiped her tears with her sleeves. Right now she still had to make sure Brittany was comfortable so she put the sweatpants on Brittany's battered legs. She could cry later when she was done.

But that was just a plan and plans just don't work out sometimes.

When Santana had the hem of Brittany's shirt up about 6 inches from her waist, she broke down once again. After seeing a glimpse of another bruise, she impatiently pulled Brittany's shirt up and off her arms until it was only covering her neck. What she saw was much worse than she had just seen moments before. Brittany's whole upper body was riddled by bruises. One was so big that it covered ¼ of Brittany's back. The scratches repeat themselves too, only they were longer and some still had traces of blood, if not still bleeding.

Brittany's arms had marks on them too. Old and new. The only difference was that the bruises on her arms were in the shape of gripping hands. They were all on top of each other but Santana could make out the finger shapes around Brittany's wrists, upper arm, forearm and even part of her neck. Everywhere, really.

After taking some more photos of Brittany's injuries in pure torture, Santana took deep breaths to condition herself. She traced the bruises with her fingers without ever really touching them. She just ghosted her hand over the colors, afraid that she would hurt her friend.

It was noisy in her head. There were all sorts of questions swimming in her brain like how many times did Brittany got hit, how often did it happen, who hit her and how could anybody do this to Brittany.

She sat down on the floor right next to Brittany's bed and stroked her blonde hair. "What happened to you?" Santana whisper cried. "What did he do to you, Britt?"

Brittany shivered in her sleep and Santana realized that she wasn't finished dressing her up. So she carefully yanked Brittany's shirt over her head and got her into the clean sweatshirt she told Puck about.

"Purple hippos," Brittany smiled in her sleep. "Pretty…"

Santana choked between crying and laughing. Whatever it was that happened to Brittany, she sure was glad she didn't let it invade her dreams.

oOoOo

"How is she?"

Santana closed the door behind her. "She's still asleep," she whispered. Puck had knocked on her door— for the first time ever— to get an update about the girl who just collapsed on the front door.

Santana hugged herself and rubbed her arms up and down, up and down. "Puck," she looked up to the boy.

"What is it?"

"There were bruises."

"Where?"

"Everywhere. Like, all over her body," Santana sniffled, trying to keep her voice low. "Someone's been hitting her."

Puck's jaw tightened, but he didn't say anything. He just wrapped his arms around Santana, let her tears soak his shirt and tried to swallow back his anger. His job was to hold the fort, and that was exactly what he was going to do.

"Ssh," he rubbed her back. "It's okay. She's here now. We're not gonna let anybody hurt her again, okay?"

Santana only nodded. She knew it wasn't as simple, and she knew Puck only said it to calm her— maybe even to calm the both of them. But for now, pretending that things were really not that complicated to figure out was easier than accepting the otherwise.

"Do you need anything for the bruises?" Puck peeled her off him. "I got a bunch of ointments from the coach, let me get them real quick."

Not a minute later, Puck came out of his room with a pouch of assorted medication. He wasn't lying when he said he had a bunch of them. In fact, there was more than just 'a bunch'. He explained what some of them do to Santana and how to apply them. She was impressed. Even the stuff Sue gave the Cheerios weren't as complicated and certainly not that many.

"This one," he held up a jar, "works like a charm. A linebacker tackled me once and totally messed up my back. But after a good ice bath and a few days of this baby, I was as good as new."

"Thanks," Santana accepted the jar and the whole pouch. "I'll see if I can put them on without waking her up."

Puck nodded. "Yeah, you do that. But don't stay up all night if you don't have to. Sleep if you can. It's probably gonna be a longer day tomorrow for all of us."

Santana nodded and gave him a thankful smile before she went back into her room. She dimmed the light down so that _if_ Brittany woke up, she wouldn't be blinded by it.

"Brittany," Santana sat on the bed and whispered into Brittany's ear. Even though Brittany was pretty much out cold, she felt like she needed her permission if she was going to put on soothing creams on Brittany's back.

"B," she whispered again. "I'm going to put something on your back to help with your bruises, okay?"

Getting no response but a soft snore from Brittany, Santana uncapped the jar. She tested the cream on her arm first to get a feel of it before lifting up the back of Brittany's sweatshirt. The ointment had a cooling sensation to it, but she was sure it wasn't strong enough to wake Brittany up.

It seemed like a simple enough task. She had done it a million times to Quinn every afternoon after Cheerios practice, easing her injuries. But the second her palm touched Brittany's back, the blonde girl's eyes shot open and her whole body tensed. With a swift move Brittany turned her body around so that she was lying straight on her back, staring at the ceiling.

Santana jumped at the sudden movement, but she quickly recovered and managed to pull her hand out of the way before it got squished between Brittany and the sheets.

"Brittany?" She gently put her hand on Brittany's shoulder to calm her down but the blonde girl started to shake in horror.

"I'm sorry," Brittany answered, never taking of her stare from the ceiling like there was some scary creature staring her down.

Santana scrunched her eyebrows. "Brittany," she tried again gently. "What are you sorry for?"

"I'm sorry," Brittany's lips quivered and a tear dropped from her left eye. "I'll be good. I'll be quiet. Please don't hit me."

Santana's heart stopped. Her assumption was right. Somebody was hitting her.

Santana fixed her position so that her face was right in Brittany's line of sight and looked straight into Brittany's eyes. They were empty and they were looking through her. Santana wasn't even sure if Brittany was really awake.

"Brittany," she called her friend. No positive reaction. Just the same whimpering and shaking.

She tried again. This time she put her hands on the sides of her friend's face, her thumb wiping off the tears coming out of the corners of Brittany's eyes. "Brittany, can you hear me? It's Santana. It's okay, it's just Santana, B."

Brittany blinked a few times.

"Santana?"

Santana smiled and nodded. Relieved that Brittany was brought back from whatever nightmare she was in. "Hi."

"Santana?" Brittany repeated. "But… where's the hippo?"

"What hippo, B?"

"The purple one. The one that flies around you."

Santana chuckled. "Brittany," she said gently. "This isn't a dream, B."

"It's not?" Brittany asked and Santana shook her head. "It's really, really not and you're really, really here?"

"It's really, really not and I'm really, really here," Santana confirmed.

Like a switch was flicked inside her, Brittany started crying uncontrollably. Brokenly. "You're really here," she sobbed, using the back of her hands to cover her eyes. "I thought… I thought— oh my God."

"Ssh,.. It's okay," Santana stroked Brittany's blonde hair. It was really hard to not cry with the blonde girl, but it wasn't _her_ time to cry. "It's okay. You're okay."

oOoOo

"Santana?" Brittany whispered as she watched the darkness playing tricks on her eyes. It was an hour since Brittany started her crying, about 15 minutes after she finally got herself together.

Santana had tried to get Brittany to eat, but the blonde girl refused to eat anything but the cookies. She said she didn't have the energy so Santana just watched her as Brittany devoured Emma's delicious soft-baked goodness. Brittany's face lit up the moment she took her first bite off the cookie and for a moment there Santana forgot that the girl in front of her was badly broken.

The room had grown impossibly quiet since then except for Brittany's sniffles every now and then, but now both girls were lying on the bed. It was tough, given the small space and the fact that they both had grown so much within the last 4 years, but they managed. Brittany was lying on her side, facing Santana's empty bed, and Santana behind her, watching Brittany's frail back move as she breathed. It was the only way they could both fit in the small bed.

"I'm here, B."

"Oh, good. It's so quiet. I thought you were gone," Brittany sighed in relief. "Don't leave? Please?" A pause. "Unless if you have to pee."

Santana shook her head in amusement. "No, I'm good," she chuckled. "Go to sleep, Britt. You're exhausted."

"I can't," Brittany's voice cracked. "I get scared when it's quiet."

"Do you want to listen to some music? I can get my iPod. We'll share the earphones."

Brittany slowly nodded, but then she shook her head. "Will you sing?"

Santana cleared her throat. Suddenly she was feeling self-conscious and she didn't know why. It was just Brittany. She had sung for her before. There was even a time when she didn't even want to sing in front of anybody else but Brittany. In addition, even if she had never agreed to a solo, she had participated in enough numbers for the glee club since she joined that she was sort of used to singing in front of others. So why was she thinking too much about it?

_Oh, for God's sake, get a hold of yourself, _Santana mentally kicked herself._ She needs you._

"Anything you want, Britt," Santana finally told her. "Close your eyes, okay? Try and get some rest."

"Okay," Brittany agreed.

Santana inched closer and cleared her throat once again. She didn't even have to think about what song to sing because she had had it in her mind since the first time she heard it.

"If you rescue me," she sang softly, "I'll be your friend forever."

She knew Brittany would agree with her song choice. After all, it was _her_ who made the song up. "Let me in your bed, I'll keep you warm in winter."

Brittany smiled with her eyes closed. Her mind was filled with memories about two little girls rescuing a kitten from a tree. About them smuggling the kitten into the basement, and about them finally getting permission to take care of it until it grew into a slightly obese and lazy cat.

She lifted her right arm so it rested against her chest and upper left arm, and opened its palm, waiting for Santana's hand to hold. The singing girl met the request by intertwining their fingers and Brittany held on tight.

"All the kitties are playing, they are having such fun. I wish it could happen to me," Santana watched as Brittany's breathing became more relaxed. "So if you rescue me, I'll never have to be alone again."

Santana kept singing until she felt the grip around her fingers loosened. She lowered her volume a little bit to listen to Brittany's breathing. It was back to being regulated. The blonde, blue-eyed girl was most definitely asleep.

Santana pulled out her cellphone from her pocket to look at the time. It was nearing 3 AM. She wondered if she should just give up on getting some sleep since it was already morning anyway. She thought about a bunch of things that she could do while she waits for Brittany to wake up. Running, making breakfast, sitting out in the porch with her iPod on. Probably washing the make up from her face.

Then she remembered that she promised Brittany to never leave and she wasn't about to break a promise.

She sighed and stared at their intertwined fingers. Without breaking the link, Santana sat up and pulled the covers up to their shoulders with one free hand and lay back down.

Santana closed her eyes. Might as well get some sleep.

oOoOo

**April 19, 2010 – 5.14 AM**

Brittany's eyes couldn't take anymore sleeping. She had been staring into the darkness for more than half an hour and she was sick of it.

No. That's not right.

She was scared of it.

Brittany's mind was playing terrible tricks on her. She kept waiting, and waiting, and waiting for the door to quietly crack open, to feel a dip on the bed and a strong grip on her legs.

It was ridiculous really, because she was completely aware of where she was, and where she was, for once, wasn't somewhere she didn't want to be. She knew that she was sleeping in her old bed and she knew that the hand holding her own was Santana's, but she couldn't control the thoughts running through her head.

Brittany shut her eyes tight. Real tight. She could hear him in her ears. Feel his breath on her neck.

_"Take of your pants,"_ he would say sometimes, forgoing small talks as he walked into her room. He would tell her, _"I'm sorry, baby, I didn't mean to hit you," _like he really regretted it it, but then he would hit her again.

And again and again.

_"Go on and cry, you worthless piece of shit! Nobody's gonna come and save you. Nobody loves you like I do, baby. Nobody," _the voice in her head grew louder and louder and her breathing got plenty and short between.

Brittany heard a muffled sound of a door being shut from down the hall and footsteps on creaking floor. She felt her whole body freeze.

"It's just Puck going to the bathroom. It's just Puck going to the bathroom," she chanted under her breath. She tucked her chin further under the covers, looking for safety more than warmth.

Santana, in the midst of her peaceful slumber, must've had felt Brittany's fear because not even after her 6th chant, Brittany felt a squeeze on her hand and heard a sleepy voice from behind her.

"Amm here," Santana mumbled sleepily. "Go sleefh."

It was enough to make her smile and calm down.

For now.


	24. Bombs

_**A/N:** I would like to take this opportunity to really thank everyone who's been taking the time to read this fic and bear with its slow pace. LOL. I know it's probably longer than what you've expected (23 chapters! i didn't even think I'd last this long). The number of followers have been going up and down lmaoooo, I guess some people got bored. But it's okay! This story holds a special place in my heart and I'm gonna keep writing it even if nobody's reading it anymore. It's a journey for these 2 characters and I have to tell it right— even if it's to myself. So, really, thank you from the bottom of my heart and the heart of my bottom (:P) for sticking around this long._

_Also thank you for everyone's encouraging responses for that last chapter! Thank you for the reviews and PMs, and for all of you who've decided to connect with me and share your life stories, you have no idea how your words have opened my eyes. Thank you, thank you, thank you._

_On that note, I must warn you that a big part of this chapter is about Brittany recalling Hell, so if you don't think you can read it, don't. I will try to somehow seamlessly include bits and pieces in the next chapter without being too detailed._

**_Messages for the rebels:_**

_**• Cyan55:** Here's the next chapter ;)_

_**• anon:** Santana will never not take care of Brittany. And vice versa :)_

_**• MissAB:** again with the nice comments! You are too good for my ego lmao. Hope you didn't feel TOO much pain!_

_**• K:** My heart was twisting so bad when I was writing that part. Actually, my heart twists really bad writing every chapter. But that one kind of took the cake. Or the arsenic, for that matter. _

_**Question:** Now that the abuse was revealed, should I change the rating to M? I was gonna do it today, but wasn't sure about it. Feel free to chime in about it. I'd probably go with the majority :)_

_Thank you! Happy reading, y'all!_

* * *

><p>After pressing the 'Snooze' button for God knows how many times, Santana finally dragged her downstairs to have breakfast and that's when she saw Puck for the first time in more than 4 years. Brittany was really happy to see him, of course, but it was difficult to not be afraid of him. Of what she thought he was capable of doing.<p>

She didn't mean to step back when he moved towards her with open arms. She knew he wasn't going to hurt her. She knew he only wanted to give her a hug, he was just being his old caring big brother self. She knew it. Her heart knew it, her brain knew it, but her body just refused to recognize it. The thought of being held by rough hands just made her shake in fear.

She apologized to him and he dismissed it with a wave of a hand and a smile, saying it was perfectly okay.

But just because they hadn't seen each other for 4 years, it didn't mean she couldn't still recognize the hurt in his eyes.

Santana witnessed the whole thing and defused the situation by placing freshly made pancakes on the kitchen counter for all of them. A stack of plain pancakes for Puck, a plate of 2 chocolate chip pancakes for her, and a plate of a cat pancake for Brittany with pointy ears, chocolate whiskers, strawberry eyes and maple syrup tail. Now she knew why Emma spent so much time in the kitchen. She had never appreciated Emma's defuser skills more.

After exchanging a few words ("thank you," and, "this looks awesome!") and nudges passing the syrup around, the room grew quiet again as they start to cut their pancakes. No tension there, just uneasiness.

Puck, slightly traumatized after being rejected by Brittany, tried to keep his mouth shut and his movement minimum. As far as he knew, anything could be a trigger, even if he didn't really know exactly what happened to Brittany during the last 4 years.

Santana, after spending the night with Brittany, didn't feel like talking at all. She did a lot of crying already and was emotionally drained. Making the pancakes proved to be very helpful in forgetting the whole situation, at least for a little while.

Brittany however, like she had mentioned before, wasn't a fan of silence. She knew the room was quiet because of her, more or less, and she needed to change that. For starters, she wanted Puck to know that it wasn't his fault that she flinched.

"Are you uh, in the football team now," Brittany started the conversation and for a moment Puck stopped chewing. He wasn't sure if the question was for him.

"Um," he stopped his fork midair. "Me?"

Brittany chuckled. "Of course you, silly. Santana couldn't be in the team. She's tiny."

Puck smiled like a kid in a candy store. "Yeah," he beamed and shared a look with Santana who returned it with a genuine smile. "I'm officially a receiver now."

"What's your jersey number? What's the color of uniform?"

"20," answered Puck. "And it's red."

"Awesome," Brittany grinned. "I like 20. I like red too."

Puck smile grew even bigger. He felt something brushed his leg and pointed at the floor. "Look Britt, somebody else missed you too."

Santana leaned back on her chair to see what Puck was talking about and she smiled. For once she didn't mind a certain fluffy cat's presence in the kitchen that much.

Brittany beamed and picked up the cat who was snuggling to her legs. "Lord Tubbington! Oh my gosh! Hi, baby."

Puck laughed. "Britt, he's a big ass cat. He's not a baby anymore. I'm pretty sure he's even bigger than a human baby."

"Don't listen to him, LT," Brittany cooed into the cat's ears and the cat nuzzled on Brittany's cheek. "He's a meanie."

The boy in the room shoved another piece of his pancake into his mouth and talked with his mouth full. "You should've seen Santana that day."

"What day?" Brittany's eyes darted back and forth between a smug looking Puck and a blushing Santana. The sight was pretty amusing. "What happened?"

"Oh, she was a mess!" Puck said too happily. "A total mess! She couldn't stop crying and all."

Santana rolled her eyes and slapped his arm. "Shut up, Puckerman."

"What happened?" Brittany fixed her hand placement so that now she was cradling the cat with one hand and eating her pancake with the other. Lord Tubbington watched as her fork (and food) go up towards her mouth. "Why were you crying?"

"It's nothing," Santana wiped her mouth with the napkin. "Tubbs was sick and I was worried, that's all."

"She was worried _sick! _That's what," Puck chimed in. "She didn't eat, didn't sleep. She refused to leave his side 24/7."

"He was throwing up all day and night," Santana huffed. "What was I supposed to do?"

"Well, you could've brought him to the vet like we told you to."

"You didn't?" Brittany scrunched her eyebrows.

"I did!" Santana protested and continued shyly. "Just… not soon enough. I thought I could take care of him myself."

Brittany waited until she swallowed before talking again. "Well, what did the doctor say?"

Santana crossed her arms. "_Fatso_ here most likely ate something bad. Like, poisonous bad. The doc said it might've been mothballs or something. Which figures because you, mister," Santana booped the cat's nose with her finger and the cat swung its paw to catch it, "eat anything in sight."

"So she had to leave LT at the vet's for a few days. She came home with super red eyes, all puffy from crying and all," Puck threw a crumb at Santana. His plate was almost empty.

"Shut up," Santana picked up the crumb and threw it back. "He almost died!"

Puck ducked from the flying crumb and stuck out his tongue at Santana. Brittany laughed at the scene playing in front of her. It was so nice to be back somewhere she had wanted to be for a long time. It had been too long since the last time she had a meal that didn't end with someone yelling at her.

"I almost died too, once," Brittany nonchalantly chimed in like what she just said didn't matter. The other two teenagers sitting on the counter felt their hearts dropped. None of them was ready for that piece of information and neither had the courage to follow up on it.

"Mmm… this pancake is awesome, San," Brittany popped another piece of her food into her mouth with a big smile.

Santana returned the kind words with a forced smile. She put her fork down and gently pushed the plate away. Suddenly she didn't like pancakes anymore.

oOoOo

"Oh my gosh," Brittany plopped backwards onto her bed with a hand on her stomach. "I'm so full. I haven't had anything like that since…" she counted with her fingers. "Since January!"

"January?" Santana was confused, but climbed on Brittany's bed nonetheless. "Didn't Nancy use to cook a storm?"

"She did, yeah," Brittany tried hard to sit up, a combination of full stomach and a battered body. She backed up on the bed and leaned on the headboard. Now they were sitting side-by-side, shoulder to shoulder. "But bad things happened and she left."

Santana's eyes widened. "She left? How could she just leave you like that?"

"I don't blame her. He hurt her really bad." Brittany paused. "She said she'd come back for me."

"Did she?"

Brittany looked down to her hands and shook her head. "No. I mean, I knew she meant it when she said it, but… I kept waiting and waiting and now… here I am," she looked up to Santana and pursed her lips together.

"Brittany," Santana took a deep breath. It was time for her to press for the truth. "When you said 'bad things', what sort of things do you mean?"

Brittany scoffed and for the first time in her life, Santana saw a real eye roll from her. The Brittany she knew would _never_ do an eye roll and mean it. "You're smart, Santana. You changed my clothes into this," Brittany stretched the fabric clinging to her stomach to highlight the sweatshirt she was wearing. "You know what happened."

The other girl cleared her throat. She didn't feel like she knew this Brittany. But the need to know further was stronger than her fear. So she decided to push her luck. "I saw bruises, and probably some scratches. I saw hand marks all over your arms… neck too. I know that much. But nothing else."

"Fine," Brittany sat up and scooted over to the other end of the bed. She twisted her body and sat Indian style to face Santana, who quickly imitated her to make enough room for the both of them. "What do you want to know?" asked Brittany, sporting a smile to go with the nerves that made her hands hide inside the kangaroo pockets of her sweatshirt.

For the second time in 3 minutes, Santana was taken aback. Brittany seemed to have turned back into the old, sweet version of her that Santana started to think she was just imagining the eye roll that she saw.

"Um," Santana bit her lip. She really didn't want to ask anything if Brittany wasn't ready to answer. So she started easy, in the hopes that Brittany would carry on the conversation. "OK, where have you been?"

Brittany scoffed again. "Hell," she answered coldly looking down at the sheets.

"And… where was hell?"

Brittany shrugged. "Johnson City, Tennessee."

"Britt," Santana jaw dropped. "That's 7 hours away with a car! How did you get here?"

"I walked, well… I ran actually, to the station and took like… 5 bus rides. Maybe more, I don't even know. As many as my money bought me," Brittany bobbed her head side to side as she explained. "Then I walked here."

"How long did it take you? Did you get lost?"

Brittany smiled. "Nope," she beamed proudly. "I printed a lot of directions from Google. Nancy taught me how to read them."

Santana couldn't help but let Brittany's smile infect her. "Look at you all high-tech and smart."

The blonde girl sitting across her blushed. But the pink hue on her cheeks didn't last long. It was soon replaced with hard shapes of tightened jaw when Santana asked her about the wounds on her body.

"How did you get them? They're really bad, B."

"He hit me," Brittany answered truthfully through gritted teeth. "Sometimes with his hand, sometimes with his belt," she paused. "Sometimes he'd push me around and I'd hit something."

Santana winced. "Is that it?" she carefully prodded.

"No," Brittany shook her head slowly. A single teardrop fell from the corner of her left eye. "No, it wasn't."

On instinct, Santana scooted forward. She pulled Brittany's hands out of the pockets and enveloped them with her own. She started to rub her thumb back and forth on her knuckles.

"After we left Lima, things changed. He, uh," Brittany used her shoulder to wipe her tears, pulling Santana's hand with the movement. "He started hitting Nancy in front of me. Before, I would only hear arguments and that was it. But then one night he just did it right there, in the dining room, because he said his food was cold. But it wasn't. She and I prepared dinner together and I could swear the meatloaf just came straight out of the oven."

Santana nodded, encouraging Brittany to go on. She knew if she were to open her mouth, they would both be crying like there was no tomorrow. And she couldn't do it. At least not now. She still needed to get story straight from Brittany while she could. She knew it wasn't going to be a pretty story, but assumptions never made anything better.

"But he never hit me back then," Brittany clarified. "I don't know. I think he did it just to show me that he was in charge and Nancy was just a bug that he could crush. She couldn't protect me," Brittany sniffled and cleared her throat.

Santana grabbed a box of tissue from the nightstand. She handed it to Brittany and the blue-eyed girl set it down right in front of her with just one hand. Letting the other be kept in comfort by Santana's own.

"One night, he came into my room. It was way passed my bedtime. Like, probably around midnight," Brittany continued and Santana could feel her brain blowing sirens to try and block this part of the story out.

"He told me he wanted to play a _game_," said Brittany bitterly, trying hard stop her lips from quivering. "And I didn't say no because who doesn't like games? I was so confused. He kept telling me that he was my _dad_," Brittany started to sob, "and I was _supposed _to do what he told me. And I was stupid— "

"You are not stupid."

"—enough to let him do it."

Santana, at this point, felt her heart break into a million pieces for Brittany. She cried with her in silence. No sound, only tears falling down her face.

"Ssh," Santana stood up and moved to the side of the bed, right next to Brittany. She stretched her arms and wrapped Brittany into her chest. She could feel her shirt getting soaked with tears but she didn't care. All she cared about at that moment was the girl whose shoulders were shaking in her arms.

"When he left I just laid there. I just laid there for _hours_. I felt like he was still there, watching me, and if I moved a muscle, he'd do it again," Brittany recollected. "You know how in movies, people just tell the police 'it happened so fast'?"

Santana nodded. Brittany couldn't see it. She just felt Santana's chin touching the top of her head.

"They lie," Brittany stated coldly through her teeth. "It's a complete lie. When he did it, it felt like time stopped. _I _stopped. I couldn't move, I couldn't breathe. I couldn't even tell him to..."

Brittany choked and Santana started stroking her best friend's hair, reminding her that she was there.

"I couldn't even tell him to stop," Brittany concluded. She felt Santana's grip on her shoulder tightened and she surrendered to the safety.

"Did he do it… often?"

Brittany nodded. "I've lost count," she said, her voice shaking from sobs. "I remember, though, that he started doing it February 15, 2006. Exactly 2 years later, he started hitting me."

"Those are your birthdays," Santana breathed out and Brittany nodded in confirmation.

"I don't know where I got it from but that night I had the courage to threaten him."

"What did you say?"

"I told him I was going to tell," Brittany said. "I didn't even know who to tell, I was just bluffing. But he got angry and just started punching me."

"Nobody knew about it?"

"Nobody except for Nancy and me," Brittany shook her head. "He was always careful to never hit me in the face so that no one in school would find out. And I had to wear long-sleeve unitards for my dance classes."

Santana bit the inside of her cheek. "When was the last time he…"

"The night I ran away," Brittany closed her eyes. "That was it. He was drunk— he was never drunk before. He passed out in my room, um, during… and I pushed him out of me. I grabbed what I could and I ran. I just sprinted out of there."

Feeling like her legs had turned into jelly, Santana finally sat on the edge of the bed and tightened her hug. They're heads resting on each other's shoulder now, both trying hard to hold back their sobs.

Santana pulled back and held Brittany's hands with hers. "This morning," Santana started slow, looking straight at Brittany's glossy eyes. "When you said you almost died…"

She trailed off. She couldn't even finish her question.

"One day, I got held back for a couple of hours at school. I had a make up test because I missed the first one," _because I was still out after he beat me up the night before, _Brittany thought, but she didn't say it out loud. She took a deep breath and exhaled through her mouth. "He thought Nancy was covering for me and I had run away, so when I got home he… punished me. He already beat her down to a pulp and when I tried to help her he just… started using me as a punching bag until he got bored."

Brittany took a deep breath.

"The last thing I remember, he was strangling me with his hands and then I was blacked out. Nancy told me she had to do CPR for me to come back," she looked down. "Sometimes I still don't know if it was better if—"

Brittany stopped herself from finishing her sentence but it was too late. Santana already knew what she was going to say.

oOoOo

"How bad is it?" Puck asked Santana. She managed to slip away to his room while Brittany took a shower.

Santana shook her head as she head over to the chair. "Really bad," she said, picking up a piece of paper from Puck's desk. "I can't tell you the details because it's not my place to tell… but we assumed right about her bruises," both her and Puck took a deep breath. "He's been hitting her… and stuff."

Puck didn't need any more explanation to understand what Santana meant with that last bit. He can feel his blood boiling.

"She doesn't want Will and Emma to know," Santana weakly told Puck. "Not yet."

Puck narrowed his eyes. "How are we gonna do that? Santana, they _have_ to know. This is serious."

"I _know_ this is serious," Santana rolled her eyes exasperatedly. "But this is what she wants. She told me she wasn't ready for anyone else to know about… about what he did to her."

"Damn it," Puck groaned. He ran a hand on his face. "What are we gonna tell them? That she magically appeared in front of the house last night?"

Santana shook her head. "It's fine. I'll take care of it."

Puck huffed. "What about a doctor then?"

"She doesn't want to either," she told him. She saw Puck opening his mouth and added, "believe me, I tried."

Puck took a pause to pacify his chaotic brain. "This is so messed up. What do _you_ think we should do?"

"Me?" Santana blinked and Puck nodded. "I… On one hand I wanna respect her wishes, but right now I just want to skin that bastard alive."

Santana started to tear the paper she had in her hand along the sides, slowly like she had a big, burly man who had abused her best friend for four years in her hands, and that she was peeling his skin off with every inch torn from the paper.

"That sick son of a bitch," Puck gritted his teeth. "I should've listened to you. I should've—"

"What? You should've what?" Santana asked the boy sitting across her. "None of us could've done anything. Sure, I had my suspicions. But it was just that— a suspicion."

"I could've told someone."

"Even if we told, nobody was gonna do anything based on a couple of teenagers' hunch."

"I can't believe you're being so calm about this!" Puck got up from the bed. "_Brittany_ is hurt. Your _best friend _is hurt. Someone threw her around and this is what you're telling me?! That there's nothing we can do? We could've lost her! Is it really that easy for you?"

Santana was livid. She stood up to meet Puck's eye level, not wanting to be intimidated by him just because he was standing up. "Don't fucking tell me what I should feel right now because you had _no_ idea what she just told me! You had _no_ idea how angry I am at myself for not trying harder! For not finding her sooner! Do you seriously think this is _easy _for me? Do you even know what she means to me? Everything! She means _everything_!"

Puck was taken aback. He knew Brittany was important for Santana, but to hear her say it out loud was pretty surprising.

"I got nothing else!" Santana yelled at him. "I got _no one_ else!"

oOoOo

In the bathroom, Brittany was cherishing the feeling of taking a shower without fear being interrupted by the devil itself. In this house, there was a lock for everything and the bathroom door wasn't an exception. She almost cried turning the lock.

Done with the shower, she stepped out of the tub and cleared the fog on the mirror. She took a good look at her reflection, from the top of her head, down to her shoulders to just below her navel where the mirror stopped.

She looked at the greens, the blues, the purples and the reds on her skin and sighed. She couldn't even remember what she looked like without the bruises. But hey, at least now she could start getting her hopes high about the possibility of them actually healing.

_"Brittany, we need to get you to a doctor. We need to get you checked," Santana had told her._

_Brittany quickly shook her head. "No," she said. "No. No doctors."_

_"Not just for the bruises, Britt. I mean—"_

_"I know what you mean!" Brittany cut her off. "And the answer is no."_

_"B," Santana pleaded. "What if—"_

_"No! I said no!"_

_Santana huffed. Even though she could already tell what Brittany's answer was going to be, she decided to ask her anyway. "What about Emma and Will?"_

_"They can't know either," Brittany shook her head. "Santana, please. Please keep this a secret, at least for now. I'm not—," she sighed. "I'm not ready yet."_

_"But B," Santana squeezed her shoulder. "You have to tell them. You can't let Doug get away with this."_

_Brittany closed her eyes. "I know, but," she took a deep breath. "I ran away, San. What do you think will happen if I go to the doctor? Or if I told Will and Emma?"_

_Santana pursed her lips. She could see the logic behind Brittany's reasoning clearly. Going to the doctor and/or telling her foster parents meant they would be dealing with the system. The same system that allow sick men like Doug Geoffrey abuse unsuspecting children who just wanted to be loved._

_"Fine," after giving it a thought, Santana gave up. "We're not telling anyone about it— for now. But we gotta come up with a story so that Will and Emma won't get suspicious."_

_Brittany exhaled with relief. "Thank you."_

Brittany poked a large purple-green splotch that was on the right side of her stomach and winced. Doug never even made an attempt to avoid hitting her where it was already hurting. Once, the pain was so unbearable she actually passed out when he was in her. She didn't know how long she was out, but she did remember the first thing she heard him say when she came to.

_"Disappointing."_

He was zipping his fly.

oOoOo

"I'm sorry," Puck huffed. "I didn't mean to say that."

Santana crossed her arms, still feeling the anger. She couldn't believe Puck would ever think she didn't care about Brittany. He knew perfectly well how much she meant for her. After all, she dragged him around everywhere looking for Brittany.

"It's just that I'm so angry at myself," Puck started pacing, running his hand through his mohawk. "I can't help but think all of this wouldn't have happened if I just… if I just," he kicked his closet door. "Didn't," another kick. "Let her," and another. "Go!"

That last kick effectively made a big gaping hole on the closet and a gash on his foot, but Puck didn't care. His tears wasn't for how much pain he was feeling, they were for how much everything hurt.

"If I had just held her back that night," he slumped on the floor leaning to what was left of his closet door, knees tucked to his chest, saving as much masculinity as he could, covering his face with both hands as he cried. "If I had just ignored her, he wouldn't have taken her away."

Santana stood there. She didn't expect Puck to break down like this. All these years, Puck had always been the 'big brother' who liked to pretend he was a badass. He'd agree to it if someone in the house mentioned how Brittany was missed, but he had never _ever _said it himself, let alone telling anybody how guilty he'd felt about surrendering to Brittany's request that night.

She fiddled with the hem of her shirt and felt herself stopping her feet from walking over to Puck. Within the last 24 hours there had been too many tears shed in that house and she knew she would contribute to even more if she wrapped her arms around the crying boy. Call her selfish, but she couldn't afford any more tears. Brittany could come out of the bathroom any second now and Santana didn't want her to see the other two people in the house breaking down.

She felt guilty though, because Puck had been there for her when _she_ was the one being a sobbing mess last night, and many other nights before when she wasn't feeling as tough. She could at least try and tell him that it wasn't his fault.

"Puck, you—"

Her sentence was cut short by the sound of the door clicking shut and she turned around to look at it. Brittany was there, hair half wet, obviously done with her shower.

Without a word the blonde girl moved towards Puck, who was still covering his eyes with the heels of his hands that he wasn't aware of his surrounding.

Santana opened her mouth to say something, but as soon as she did, she realized that she didn't know what to say. So she closed her mouth again and just waited for Brittany's next move.

Brittany carefully sat next to Puck. She lifted an arm, the one that was closest to her _brother_, and started to awkwardly pat his head. Just because she couldn't accept Puck's invitation for a hug earlier, didn't mean she couldn't touch him in any way. As long as she was in control, she could handle it just fine.

"Don't cry, Puck," she told him, like how she used to calm down her crying sister. "I'm here now. Don't cry."

oOoOo

There was something off about Brittany's demeanor.

It wasn't that Santana was expecting the same exact Brittany that she last saw more than four years ago, but she definitely wasn't expecting _this._

Brittany seemed to have different personalities going on at once. First, there was the sweet Brittany. This Brittany had no problems keeping up with conversations with Santana and Puck that day. She had lunch with them, watched the TV. They even played cards for a bit and she was alright with it, laughing along to whatever insult that the other two teenagers were throwing at each other.

But Santana, when it comes to people, was very observant. And when it comes to Brittany, it was always more than just a matter of being attentive.

Occasionally she would catch Brittany spacing out. This Brittany was hard to reach, like she had her own world around her that was just filled with thick fog. She would look at the TV and just stare at the glass part of the screen and not pay attention to the pictures moving behind it.

The few, limited times that Brittany spent actually watching the program was decorated with a lot of eye rolls and concealed scoff. She had glimpses of this Brittany when she was telling her story, but she had shrugged it off. Until now.

When Electric Company came on TV and started rapping about the importance of your friends and family, Santana could swear she heard Brittany Number 3 curse under her breath.

It was the first time she heard Brittany curse.

Once in a while, Santana would check on her friend, asking her directly if she was okay instead of just wondering about it in her head. At first, Brittany's answers were predictable smiles or little nods. But when it got to the point when it was almost 6PM and Santana had been asking the question for maybe the 10th time, she got a response that actually made her take a step back. Santana wasn't even finished with the sentence when Brittany looked at her menacingly, with her jaw tightened and her fist balled.

"I'm fucking fine," Brittany told her in a whisper through gritted teeth and Santana actually needed a couple of seconds before she started breathing again. Puck, witnessing the exchange, couldn't even say anything. But the horror in his eyes when he looked up to Santana said it all.

A few minutes later Brittany came up to her when they were alone in the kitchen, clutching a very happy, comfortable Lord Tubbington in her arms.

"I'm sorry. I didn't— I didn't mean to," Brittany stuttered.

Santana gave her a smile. "It's okay," she told her. "Now I know how you felt when we were little."

Brittany returned the smile. "Yeah, you were kind of a bitch."

Santana chuckled and waved around the dishrag she was holding in her hand. She made an angry face and pretended she was going to use the cloth as a whip to teach Brittany a lesson for calling her a bitch.

She regretted it instantly.

She realized Brittany wasn't laughing along with her the same time when she noticed that Brittany had dropped Lord Tubbington to the floor and was protecting her head with her arms.

"Brittany," Santana took a few steps until she was right in front of the blonde girl. She carefully peeled her arms away from her head and held her hands. "I'm sorry, I wasn't thinking. I'm not going to hit you, Britt. I'm sorry."

It took a few minutes for Brittany Number 4 to recompose herself and regulate her breathing even if she knew Santana meant her apology.

oOoOo

When Will and Emma got home that night, they were greeted by a very unusual, and a very missed sight— Brittany sitting in the living room, Santana on her side holding her hand.

"Hi," Brittany said meekly with a smile and a small wave.

Of course, both adults ran up to her, ready to shower her with hugs. But they were stopped in their tracks by Puck, who immediately got up from his seat the second Will and Emma moved towards the blonde girl. He didn't want anybody's feelings to get hurt in case Brittany rejected their hugs just like how she had rejected his.

"I know you're excited to see her," Puck held up his hands and situated himself between the girls and his foster parents. He looked over his shoulder to check on the girls sitting on the couch and they both gave him a nod of confirmation. "But there's something you should know."


	25. Strangers

_**A/N:** Hope this one pleases you. The next update won't be as fast, so... yeah. just letting you know. Sorry this fic doesn't really have a schedule like a lot of the other ones. Y'know... _real life and stuff. Sometimes I would plow through a chapter in a day (when I can get out of my deadlines at work) but sometimes it'd take me daaaayyyss to finish one. So thanks for sticking around. I really appreciate it :)__

_For the rebels **CharlieK** and** K**, thank you so much for reading AND leaving a review :) :) _

_Also thanks for all of you the registered members for the reviews and PMs. They seriously make my day!_

_Here's a virtual imaginary cone of ice cream for y'all!_

_P.S. I'm in the middle of writing the next 2 chapters. More Quinn, or more Mercedes? ;)_

* * *

><p><em>Mr. &amp; Mrs, Schuester,<em>

_There has been an emergency in the family and we are forced to travel across states for a little while. Considering the high stress circumstances, we felt that it was best to not include our daughter in this trip. We apologize for the trouble, but rest assured that your expenses would be compensated once we are back. _

_We trust that you will take good care of our Brittany._

_Much gratitude,_

_Doug & Nancy Geoffrey_

Santana clicked on a button and the window on her computer closed without saving her a copy of the document. That was the letter that Brittany had handed to Will and Emma the night they got home from their trip. Santana had carefully chosen the words, spellchecked everything and made sure that Will's printer tray was fed with one of the fancy papers on his desk before she pressed Print. Surely the Geoffreys wouldn't have used regular paper for their letters, would they?

She had watched, slightly in awe, as Brittany skillfully moved the pen across the paper, imitating Doug's signature perfectly— not that she had ever seen it before.

According to the blue-eyed girl, she was a pro. There had been plenty of days back in Johnson City, when her injuries would simply be too painful for her to deal with, that Nancy would forge a sick letter to give to the principal. It was the only way to get any leniency from the school because Doug, the man with the power, managed to weasel his way into governing by some unfortunate connection in the school board.

_"Nancy taught me how to do it," said Brittany. "You know, in case something happened to her writing hand? And then when she left… I just got used to doing it myself."_

_"He never found out about it?"_

_"If he knew, he never said anything," Brittany shrugged her shoulders as she folded the letter and put it into an envelope. "But who knows, maybe he did and threw extra punches one day. Whatever."_

When Will and Emma excused themselves into the kitchen bringing the letter with them, the three teenagers in the living room looked at each other, tortured by the uncertainty. All of them felt bad for the deceitful plan, but at the time it was the best idea they could come up with.

Brittany couldn't keep her heartbeat steady and her head was spinning so badly. She was afraid she had done Doug's signature wrong and that Will and Emma had found out the letter was a fake. Will did, after all, work for Doug for a period of time. He must've had seen his signature in a document somewhere.

Santana, still sitting next to Brittany on the couch holding her hand, recognized the skeptical looks in both Will and Emma's faces while they were reading the letter. She mentally slapped herself. The letter was just too vague. She could've at least included a fake phone number or email address in it. It would've taken her not even 10 minutes to sign up for a fake email account and she should've had done it.

Whatever. It didn't matter. If they decided to kick Brittany out of the house, she'd come with her.

Meanwhile, Puck couldn't stop his right leg from restlessly moving up and down. He was already orchestrating an escape plan for Brittany in his head and estimated the amount of money in his emergency jar, in case Brittany needed it. He felt a decent amount of pride in his chest about his stash of cash— only to regret the fact that he had spent most of it on Azimio's famous magic brownies.

The adults came to their poor, nervous teenager hearts' aid soon enough though. Apparently, after talking it out and despite the considerable vagueness of the letter, they both agreed to take Brittany in even though the thought of throwing Brittany out never crossed their minds. They just needed to make sure they were both on the same page.

When Emma called the girls into the kitchen to help with the food, all of the three kids in the living room finally started breathing regularly again. They knew the plan was working. Whether or not Will and Emma knew there was something wrong was a different story and they weren't about to question a family dinner invitation.

Brittany still didn't let Will give her a hug though. "I have hair gel allergies," she said hurriedly and unconvincingly, panicking for an excuse when Will opened his arms. She saw how Will's face instantly fell into a frown and felt really awful. But what else could she do? Explain to him why she was shaking in fear in his arms?

Yeah, right.

oOoOo

Monday, early morning during breakfast, Emma asked Brittany if she would like to go to school. An idea that earned her confused looks from the two girls sitting in front of her.

"Um," Brittany narrowed her blue eyes. "I'm not a student at McKinley."

"Oh, silly me," Emma laughed at herself. "What I meant was 'would you like to come and join me at school'."

"You mean like… to hang out?" Brittany made sure. "With you at school?"

"Yeah," Emma nodded excitedly and turned to Santana. "Didn't you tell her?"

Santana, with a piece of toast hanging from her mouth, shook her head. There was barely any time to tell Brittany anything in the last 24 hours.

"Tell me what?"

"I'm a teacher now!" Emma grinned and made small claps with her hands. "Yaaay."

Brittany smiled wide. "You're a teacher? That's awesome! So, like, all four of you go to the same place every day?"

Santana swallowed a piece of her bread and nodded. "Yeah," she confirmed. She leaned closer to Brittany and pretended to not include Emma in the conversation. "Don't tell anyone but I'm kind of sick of these people."

Emma rolled her big eyes but Brittany saw the playful smiles on her and Santana's faces. She had never thought she'd live to see the day when Santana actually joked around with Emma. It was a pleasant surprise, really— she had always liked Santana's smiles and laughter. Still, she couldn't ignore the harsh tug on her heart.

Emma wiped her mouth. "So? What do you think? You can sit in my office during classes. I can show you around too. I just hate the idea of you being alone in the house."

"Um, yeah, okay. Let me just go get ready," Brittany smiled and turned to her best friend. "San… can I, um, borrow some stuff?"

"Oh!" Santana's eyes widened. She just realized that Brittany was still wearing her oversized sweatshirt. "Yeah, sure Britt. I'll come with you."

Around thirty minutes later, the girls and Emma were on their way to McKinley. As always, Will and Puck had left earlier because of the footballer's early practice hours so it was just the three of them in the car.

Santana sat in the passenger seat, pushing the radio buttons every time the announcers took more time talking than playing songs. Every once in a while she would turn her head around to see how Brittany was doing and every time she did it, she was met with a quiet smile.

Brittany was taking refuge in how peaceful the ride was. She loved that while the trip from the house to McKinley was short, there was still plenty to look at. She watched as familiar buildings and landmarks go by and recalled how happy her days were, enjoying life like any other 11-year-olds with her best friend. When they drove past the park she stretched her neck to see if Santana's tree was still there and it was. She sighed in relief even though she didn't know why.

"Here we are," Emma pulled the hand brake and turned off the engine when they got to the parking lot. "You got everything, Santana? Lunch, homework…"

"I do," Santana smiled sweetly and Brittany watched the interaction played out from the backseat. She was still getting used to the idea of Santana and Emma getting along so well. It would definitely take her a long time.

"OK, then," Emma opened her door with her signature doe-eyed grin on her face. "Welcome to McKinley High School, Brittany."

oOoOo

"Aren't you hot, Brittany? You're wearing so many layers," Emma asked as her hands made sure all her flyers were stacked neatly in their respective stands. She had noticed Brittany's strange attire since before they left home, but she didn't want to comment on it in front of Santana. She didn't want to put the blonde girl on the spot. She didn't want to get a silent treatment from the other girl either.

"Oh," Brittany looked down on the big sweatshirt she was wearing. It was another one of Santana's that she got from a competition sometime in 2009. Underneath it was a big T-shirt belonging to Puck (Santana snuck into his room to get it) and a long sleeve shirt as the innermost layer. On her hands were fingerless gloves she had found in Santana's closet. They were green and had white stripes on them.

The hat? It was mostly just to hide her long blonde hair. She had tied it into a bun and carefully tucked it upwards underneath the hat, just to lessen the number of people who could recognize her. The fact that the hat was all fuzzy and looked like a bear was just a bonus ("I got it at a fair somewhere. It reminded me of you, okay?" Santana told her and Brittany couldn't help but grin.).

Now that Emma had mentioned it, Brittany had to admit the outfit was a little bit overdone.

It was out of habit, wearing layers of baggy clothes. Tight-fitting shirts clung to her injuries and felt like they were cutting through her wounds— especially after particular nights when she would get a_cquainted_ with Doug's leather belt. Plus, the layers sort of acted like a bumper whenever someone touched her (accidentally) on her bruises.

"I like it," Brittany answered, trying to be as casual as possible while covering her real answer. She darted her eyes around the room and noticed that she was sitting with her back facing a glass wall. It made her shift in her seat— she felt like a circus animal in display. She couldn't help but imagine peering eyes behind her and be reminded of how the word _privacy _was practically nonexistent in Hell.

Emma didn't say anything back. She just put on a tight-lipped smile and nodded understandingly. Funnily enough, it didn't make Brittany feel easier that Emma didn't say a word. It made her anxious, like Emma was hiding something— maybe she actually knew what was going on.

"Um," Brittany tried to think of a different topic. "Do you have like yearbooks or something? I want to see what everybody's up to."

"Oh!" Emma's eyes widened. She stood up and stepped towards her bookcase. "Yes, of course! We have a lot of those here. Let's see," she used her fingertips to help her identify her books as she mouthed the titles one by one. There were a lot of books sitting in the shelves. The previous person who occupied the office never bothered to come back and collect their stuff. Mostly because Sue Sylvester had threatened to shove one of her trophies down their throat if they ever did.

Emma put down 3 hardcover books in front of Brittany and after saying thank you, the girl picked up the one sitting in the middle. It said 2009 in front of it and Brittany wasted no time before opening the first page.

"So," Emma spoke again as Brittany was flipping through the pages. She clasped her hands on top of the desk. "Where have you been?"

Brittany looked at Emma through her eyelashes. Her head was still in an angle. "Johnsonville."

"Tennessee?"

"Yeah, Tennessee." Brittany nodded and gave the woman a polite smile.

"Did you like it there?"

Brittany knew what Emma was doing. She was slowly poking her to see if she would crack and spill her guts out. So she answered with a safe answer. "Not as much as I liked Lima."

"What about yo—"

"Is this Will's singing club?" Brittany cut her off, pointing to a page in the yearbook she was holding. Thank God for the coincidence because Emma's face lit up like it never shined before.

"The Glee club," Emma beamed. "They're called the New Directions. Your friend Mercedes is in it. She has a remarkable voice."

Brittany smiled at the familiar name. "Yeah, she does."

"Santana's in it too," Emma told her. "And Quinn, also."

Brittany scrunched her eyebrows. She looked at the picture on the page and saw Santana, but she couldn't tell which one was Quinn. "Which one is she?" Brittany asked, pushing the book towards Emma.

"That one," Emma pointed to a blonde girl standing next to Santana. "The one in the Cheerios uniform. They're in the cheerleading squad together."

"Santana's a cheerleader?"

"Wow, you really haven't caught up at all, have you?"

Brittany shook her head. "No."

"Well, it's a good thing I'm here. I can fill you in on some things if you want," Emma smiled at her and Brittany nodded her head again.

"She said she'd never join a choir," Brittany ghosted her fingertips over the picture.

"Well, she joined the glee club because Will had to find more members to qualify for a competition," Emma explained. "And he already knew she could sing, so—"

"He knew? How?"

"He caught her playing the piano one night," Emma chuckled. "Apparently she's been sneaking into his office almost every night. You should've seen the look on his face when he told me about it."

"Was he mad?" Brittany set the book on her lap.

Emma shook her head and put on a big smile. "On the contrary! He was so excited about it. He said, and I quote, _'she can play really well, and oh that voice, Emma! It's like butter!' _And I have to tell you, I agree. I've never heard anything like it."

Brittany smiled with pride hearing the story. She had always thought Santana's voice was beautiful. It's about time other people heard her sing. Although, a part of her was disappointed because, now that they had, she wasn't special anymore.

"What about Quinn?"

"Quinn transferred here and took over your locker right after, uh," Emma glanced at Brittany, "right after you left. They've been good friends ever since. I don't know how she did it but she convinced Santana to join the Cheerios. She's good for her."

"Oh," Brittany felt her heart drop and the woman in front of her quickly noticed her frown.

"Honey," Emma leaned forward, realizing that she might've said the wrong thing. "It doesn't mean you're not her friend anymore. It's just that… it was really hard for Santana when you were gone and—"

"Yeah, I know," Brittany said quietly. She let the silence hang in the air before she stood up. "I don't feel so good," she told the dumbfounded red-haired woman behind the desk. "I think I'm gonna go home."

Emma got up from her chair, concerned for the girl. "You can go to the school nurse if you want to lie down. It's alright."

Brittany shook her head. "No, I want to go home."

"But… the bell didn't even ring yet," Emma looked at her wristwatch. It was still early. "I can't leave."

"It's okay," Brittany breathed. "I can walk."

"But," Emma searched Brittany's face. She saw determination, and something else she couldn't decipher. _So much for being a guidance counselor_, she thought.

Not getting a response from Emma, Brittany snapped. "I'm not stupid, I won't get lost."

"I never said you would, Brittany," Emma tried to stay calm. This Brittany was a stranger to her. "I just don't want you to get tired because you said you didn't feel so well."

Brittany closed her eyes and took a deep breath. She felt bad for snapping at Emma, the woman who hadn't ben anything to her but sweet and welcoming.

"I'm sorry," Brittany said, turning on her heels, ready to break out of the glass case. "I'll see you at home."

oOoOo

"Hey," Quinn leaned on her locker, right next to Santana's. As the squad's Number One and Two, Sue had arranged for them to as close as possible during school hours. She made sure their lockers, in the hallways or in the gym locker room, were next to each other so it was easier for them to regroup when needed.

In reality she just didn't want to make the extra trip whenever she had to find them.

"Why aren't you in your uniform? You know Sue's gonna flip."

Santana looked at her outfit. She wanted to say that she totally forgot to put on the red and white cheerleading uniform today, but she knew it wasn't the real reason. She didn't want to wear it because she hasn't told Brittany that she was a cheerleader yet. So many things had changed over the last 4 years and she wanted to withhold Brittany's shock for as long as she could— to ease her into the present.

"Didn't feel like it," she shrugged. "I'll change into mine later. How was your weekend?

"Oh, same ol', same ol'. Church on Sunday with the parents, went shopping on Saturday with my mom, weirdly not nursing a hangover because I didn't go to what I heard was a bombing party Friday night," she smirked at the last part.

"Yeah, about that," Santana stopped grabbing books from her locker and offered her friend the sincerest look she could muster. "I'm sorry it didn't work out. You should've gone anyway and have fun."

Quinn smiled. "N'ah, it's okay. I was just teasing you." She opened her locker and filled her backpack with books for her first and second period. "But everything's okay, right? There's no," she made a wild gesture with her hands, "life and death situation? Tubbs isn't dying again?"

If there were no truth to what Quinn was asking, Santana would've laughed at the joke. Instead, she just shook her head unconvincingly. She knew it was a weak lie, though. She knew perfectly well Quinn had heard Friday night's commotion through the phone line. Hell, she even made sure Santana was okay right after she fell on the floor.

"Okay," Quinn said nonchalantly after spending a few seconds reading her friend yet again. "Well, as long as nobody's hurt. Nobody _is_ hurt, right?"

"Don't worry about it," Santana replied. She couldn't give her friend an honest yes or a no.

Quinn studied Santana's face before she nodded. "Okay," she said and pulled her friend into a hug.

"What's this for?" Santana asked, slightly melting into the hug just because it felt really nice to be getting one from someone who didn't need to press her further about her secrets.

"Just a reminder that I'm here whenever you need me."

Santana rolled her eyes, but she brought her arms up anyway and returned the hug. "You're such a sap, Fabray."

"Shut up and just enjoy it while you can, Lopez," Quinn told her sarcastically and Santana chuckled. She saw someone running to the exit and frowned. "Um, somebody totally just ran away when they saw us hugging."

Santana pulled out of the hug. "What? Who?"

"Don't know. I couldn't even tell if it was a boy or a girl. Super weird clothes," Quinn scrunched her nose.

oOoOo

Halfway through the 2nd period, Santana heard her name called through the speakers. Her teacher didn't look too pleased when she packed her things and head outside. Neither were her peers— obviously they were jealous she was excused from the excruciatingly boring class.

"Sit down, Longoria," Sue was already giving her orders before Santana even closed the door to her office.

"Why aren't you in your uniform?"

"I," Santana stuttered. She couldn't use the same excuse she used on Quinn. She couldn't tell her coach that she wasn't wearing her uniform just because she _didn't feel like it_. Sue Sylvester would drag her on a horse on the football field for that. So she told another lie. "I was a klutz this morning and spilt orange juice all over it. I mean I couldn't let people see a sloppy Cheerio wearing a stained uniform so I thought I could just change into the one I have in my locker. But I didn't have time so I—"

"Shut it, Santana," Sue held up one hand. "I don't wanna hear it. I'm gonna let you go this time because it was in your _very_ noble intention to not smear the Cheerios' image. But don't let me catch you out of your uniform ever again. Understood?"

"Understood," Santana nodded. She got up from the chair and walked to the door but pivoted to face Sue again. She opened and closed her mouth a few times before Sue finally noticed that her Number Two was still standing there.

"Yes?" the older woman looked up.

Santana felt a flood of second thoughts rushing through her head. But she found the courage to talk by convincing herself that Sue had power. The woman was known all over the state, and maybe country. She had mentioned in the past the plenty connections she made as the coach of the best high school cheerleading squad in the nation_. Sue would know what to do, _Santana thought.

"Can I ask you something?" Santana finally spoke.

Sue put her pen down. "Well, since you've already wasted my precious, precious seconds just to wait for you to talk, I don't see the point of saying no. What is it?"

"Um," Santana bit her bottom lip nervously. "Say you have a friend," she started lamely. "And you know this friend was abused, physically _and_ sexually, but they don't want you to tell anyone. What would you do?"

Sue took off her reading glasses and Santana actually saw her expression softened.

"Sit down, Santana," the woman gestured to the empty chair and Santana sat back down with a plethora of emotions going through her eyes.

"Santana," Sue spoke again, this time with a much gentler tone. "I'm going to ask you something very important and you need to tell me honestly."

Santana nodded.

Sue took a deep breath and held it in. "Has someone been abusing you?"

Santana's eyes widened. "No, it's not me. I swear it's not me," she quickly shook her head. She didn't want Sue to get the wrong idea. She knew Sue's suspicion went directly to Will.

"Okay, then," Sue narrowed her eyes. "Is it one of the Cheerios?"

"No," Santana shook her head again in confidence, just so that Sue would see she was saying the truth.

Sue huffed, somewhat in relief but still wary for this person Santana was talking about. If Santana said it was a _friend_ then it must be someone really close to her because she knew Santana Lopez wasn't a girl who would just confide in other people unless she felt strongly related to the matter.

"Alright," Sue clasped her hands together. "Do you know who the abuser is? Do you know what they did to your friend?"

"I do. And I saw her injuries," Santana said through gritted teeth. "She told me everything. I just want him dead."

"Well, Santana. Even though I myself think that people like them deserve to be bathed in acid, I'm not going to help you commit a homicide."

Santana looked down and wiped some tears pooling in the corner of her eyes. "You don't understand," said Santana dejectedly. "I'd do anything for her. If I had to go to prison, I'd do it."

Sue tilted her head and if Santana had looked up, she would've seen the compassionate smile she had on her face. It was a rare occurrence for Sue. The gravity of the matter was in no way comparable with the Cheerios' grueling practice schedule, but after everything she had put them through, she had never thought she'd see her second strongest leader for her cheerleading team sitting in front of her, looking so broken.

It was a nice reminder that no matter how hard she prepared them for the unthinkable, they were just kids. Children, trying to not get lost in the world.

She got up and sat on the edge of her desk, right in front of Santana. She reached for the girl's shoulder, giving it a squeeze of reassurance. "Well, let's find a way that wouldn't lead you to making Youtube videos of cheerleading jumpsuit wearing inmates, okay?"

Santana scoffed. "That bastard doesn't deserve to live."

"Maybe he doesn't, but _you_, missy, don't deserve to rot in prison either," Sue was quick to respond. "Do you think your friend would be happy if she had to visit you in prison for the rest of her life? I know you're angry, but right now you need to think rationally. Do you think you can do that?"

The girl sitting on the hot seat took a deep breath. "Yes, Coach."

"Alright," Sue nodded. "First thing we need to do is alert the right people. Social Services, lawmakers, police departments… Let them do their investigation. If they couldn't find any truth to this accusation—"

Santana opened her mouth to object to the word 'accusation'. This wasn't just an accusation— it was a fact. But Sue was faster and held up her hand to stop her from talking, so she refrained herself.

"— we're going to need to come up with proof. Did you take pictures of your friend's injury?"

Santana nodded, "I did."

"Good girl," Sue smiled at her. There was a reason why Santana was one of her bests. Unlike the rest of the team, barring Quinn Fabray, she actually knew how to use her brain. "I don't need to see your friend's face for now, so just bring or send those photos to me and we'll see how bad it is. We'll talk it through, you and I. Now get your sandbags out of my face. Seriously, if I didn't know Schuester uses all his money to buy hair gel by the gallon, I would've thought he paid a quack to have some gravy shot into your ta-tas," Sue ended her words with a smirk on her face and for once, Santana appreciated her insult. She knew it was only an attempt to lighten up the mood. Plus, she, too, hated Will's hair. Maybe more than his collection of vests.

The teenager got up from her seat feeling encouraged. "Thank you," she told the older woman and she replied with a, "you're welcome."

Just when she was about to turn the doorknob Santana heard her name being called once again. She looked over her shoulder.

"We'll figure it out," Sue smiled at her.

Santana had never wanted to compliment the sheen of her tracksuit more than that moment.

oOoOo

Santana was furious when Emma told her she had let Brittany go home by herself. She demanded that Emma wrote her a note to excuse her from the rest of her classes and ran back home the second Emma said okay.

Emma didn't object. Santana would've had no problem with sneaking out without a note anyway so she signed the permission slip and promised to forward the paper to the teachers. Besides, there was really no point to denying Santana's request. It was about Brittany after all. Not even a stampede could've stopped the young girl.

When she arrived at the house, Santana stormed up the staircase calling for her friend. She was more than worried— you would be too if your best friend could still be a target of a perverted, violent maniac.

Santana checked the whole house, running around with her shoes on. She didn't even care about Emma's number one rule: no shoes past the foyer. She'd mop the whole damn house _after _she found Brittany.

The blonde, blue-eyed girl wasn't in their room. She wasn't in Puck's, and she wasn't in Will and Emma's. She wasn't using the bathroom upstairs or the one downstairs. She wasn't in the kitchen and she couldn't be in Will's office because the door was still locked. Santana was starting to feel the cold sweat on her palms when she finally noticed Lord Tubbington scratching on a door that lead to the basement.

"Is she down there, Tubbs?" she picked up the cat and he meowed at her. Santana could swear he was telling her 'yes'.

"Brittany?" Santana opened the door and called to the darkness that was the basement. No answer.

Besides from the light coming from a tiny window, nothing else helped her eyes finding the one person she was looking for. So Santana traced the wall next to her with her hand and flicked the light switch once she found it. It wasn't much— the bulb was too weak to light the whole room— but it was definitely better than total darkness.

She carefully walked down the stairs. One step at a time as she darted her glances around. "Brittany?" she called again.

Nobody answered her, but she heard noises from one corner of the room Emma used for stashing boxes of old things. She really hoped it wasn't a village of mutated rats she was hearing.

"You're a cheerleader."

Santana jumped hearing the voice that seemed to come out of nowhere. She was right, Brittany was among the old boxes in the corner.

"Oh my God, Britt, don't do that," she held one hand against her chest, trying to calm down her jumpy heart. She squinted her eyes and tried to get a better view of the corner Brittany was sitting at. "Can I sit?"

Brittany looked over to the empty space next to her then at Santana. She shrugged. "If you want."

Santana lowered herself and leaned her back to the wall.

"Are you having fun?" Santana asked, pointing at all the boxes the blonde girl had opened and dug through. "Emma put them there. I told her not to but she couldn't stand having a big pile of them in my— I mean in _our_ room."

"Oh," Brittany replied. Short, but not at all simple.

Santana reached into to a box on Brittany's other side and pulled out… a pink backpack. "God," she chuckled. "Do you remember Emma buying us this? You had a matchi—"

"You're a cheerleader now," Brittany cut her off, repeating what she had already said.

"Um," Santana brought down the hand that was holding a piece of memory. "Yeah, I am."

"And you're in Glee club."

"Yeah," Santana nodded, raising an eyebrow. She really didn't get what Brittany was trying to tell her.

Brittany shook her head. She scoffed and Santana could hear Brittany Number 3 slowly making a comeback.

"Why didn't you stay today?" Santana asked. "You know, at school? I was worried."

"Oh, did you?" Brittany asked back, throwing an old photo back into the box. "Didn't think you'd care."

Santana furrowed her eyebrows. "I'm sorry, did I do something wrong?"

"I don't know," Brittany turned her head and looked at her friend challengingly. "Did you?"

"B," Santana pleaded. She was too tired for this. "I ran all the way from school looking for you, worried to death that someone might've taken you away again. So please, spare me the merry-go-round and just tell me the truth."

Brittany sighed. She couldn't help but feel a little bit guilty for making Santana worry. "You've changed," she huffed.

"What are you talking about?" Santana laughed. "No, I haven't. I know it's been 4 years, B, but I'm still Santana."

"No!" Brittany snapped. "You're not _my_ Santana. You're all happy now. You're in a choir— you said you would never be in one— and you're a freaking cheerleader. All happy and smiley and all that."

Santana bit the inside of her cheek so that she wouldn't lose her patience. "And that's wrong, how?"

"That's wrong because… because," the blonde girl started breathing erratically and Santana wanted nothing but to hug her. But she had a feeling Brittany wouldn't have let her if she tried.

"Ugh. Forget it," Brittany stood up in frustration. That was the last thing she said before she abruptly ran out of the basement, leaving a very confused Santana behind.

Brittany spent the rest of the day being completely silent, only allowing herself coos for a large cat that wouldn't stay away from her lap. She avoided the whole house and skipped dinner altogether, telling Will that she wasn't feeling well. Will, of course, had heard from Emma that it was the same reason that made Brittany dash out the school that morning, so he just excused her. No questions asked.

Brittany shut out the rest of the world from her night. Once she got to her room, she climbed her bed and got under the covers, pulling the blanket over her head. Her chest felt tight— so tight that she thought it would be good to cry herself to sleep. But her tears never showed up no matter how hard she willed them. She eventually gave up and just lied still with eyes watching the door, still petrified of the monster that she was used to.

She eventually fell asleep, but not before quietly sighing a breath of relief when, instead of a man with a Southern accent, it was Santana who opened the door.

Santana heard that sigh, even though Brittany had her eyes closed and pretended to be asleep. But if anybody knew about how a 'bubble' works, it was Santana. She decided to just let Brittany get as much space as she wanted and went about with her own business. She busied herself doing homework, creating a playlist on her iPod, texting Quinn for an update of what she had missed at school that day, emailing Sue pictures of Brittany's injuries and lastly, making sure that her Cheerios uniform was in pristine condition for the next morning. Now that it was in the open, she saw no point in wearing street clothes in front of Brittany anymore.

She got a text just as she reached over to turn off the lamp on her nightstand. It was from Mercedes.

**_Satan, was that a ghost I saw this morning or is Brittany back? –Cedes_**

Santana let her thumbs hover over the keyboard and watched Brittany's back as it moved with each one of her breath. A part of her was completely overjoyed at the fact that her best friend was back to occupying her bed, but the other couldn't help but think there was a stranger sleeping in her room.

She looked at her phone screen and pondered on an answer. She started to type a few letters in, but ultimately pressed the red button on her phone.

It wasn't that she was deliberately ignoring Mercedes, nor was it because she didn't want anybody to know. Mercedes was someone who could be trusted and she didn't mind telling her the truth— after getting Brittany's permission, of course. But for now she'd just set the alarm and place the phone under her pillow. She'd deal with it tomorrow.

She really didn't have an answer.


	26. Lights

What's the scariest feeling you've ever felt?

If someone had asked her, Brittany wouldn't have told them about how scary it was living in a house with a man who spent his nights torturing her, destroying every single layer of her soul, even if it was someone who knew about her painful experience. Nope, she wouldn't have told them that. She would be lying if she did.

Both of Brittany's parents were fun people. The kind of people you would love to invite to a Christmas party, or even as that one couple that you would choose to hang around with during reunions. They were the ones who would walk into the room and you'd swear the atmosphere just got a whole lot better. Even if you didn't know them that well, you'd have a hard time resisting them. They were just too likable— like characters on TV that you just couldn't help but love.

The wonderful thing about the adult Pierces was that they loved life. They were serious people when it came to keeping food on the table, but at the same time, they were just a couple of very laidback people, enjoying living as much as possible. Once, they made up a rule and spent a whole Sunday hopping around the house, just because they could— and because Katie, Brittany's little sister wanted to know what it's like to be in a family of kangaroos.

And that was the best thing about Brittany's parents: they were absolutely crazy about their children. They still had their rules, but at the same time, they let their children grow without them. They didn't tell their children 'no' a lot— barring times when Brittany or Katie got inspired by the traveling circus and attempted knife throwing or other dangerous, potentially harmful acts. It was a wonderful system that let imaginations run free and allowed the little girls to explore their creativity.

When Brittany was about 4 and Katie was nothing more than a plan, her parents decided that they would turn a teeny tiny room in the house into a closet to keep all of their silly trinkets and outfits— basically stuff you can find at flea markets and garage sales.

When the project was finally done, it soon became one of Brittany's favorite places. Her mom never let her go in there alone though. A 4-year-old among tall racks of useless, amusing objects? Big no-no. It wasn't that she was afraid Brittany would mess up the room, but between rainbow colored scarfs and bottle cap buttons, the room was just too hazardous for any toddler to be in it by themselves.

But like how curious kids usually get what they wanted, Brittany got a hold of the closet key and sneaked in. She knew her mom was going to spend a big chunk of time in the kitchen that day. It was part of a routine— Big Pierce in the kitchen with her pots and pans, Little Pierce playing in the living room with her dolls. So the moment her mother left her alone to play, Brittany climbed onto the kitchen counter and snatched the key from the hook attached to the wall.

It.

Was.

Amazing.

Everything you could ever dream to play with as a little girl was there. You could make believe you were a princess in that closet. A horse with wings flying high in the sky. A fairy with fluffed up skirt. An green ugly monster with a third eye. A little girl in a red hood carrying pie for her grandma.

Absolutely everything.

What Brittany didn't know was going to happen that day was that the kitchen sink would get clogged from years and years of grease down the pipe. What Brittany didn't know was that her mom was going to fix it all by herself and that she would have to spend a lot more of extra time in the kitchen. What Brittany didn't know was that she would accidentally pushed the door closed with the keys still dangling outside and that the door would automatically lock. What Brittany didn't know was that the lights were set to automatically turn off 10 minutes after the door was locked from the outside. What Brittany didn't know was that she was going to carry the memory forever.

oOoOo

Brittany looked at her reflection just like how she had been looking at it everyday. Her cuts were finally healing. The bruises were still there, and they were going to stay there for a while, but at least she didn't have to worry about getting new ones.

"Britt?" she heard a knock on the door. It was Santana. Brittany didn't realize she had been hogging the bathroom this morning. "Are you done?"

"Yeah! I'll be right out!" Brittany answered loudly. She gathered her dirty clothes (well, Santana's clothes) and put it in the hamper before she opened the door.

"Thought you were gonna camp in there," Santana said with a smirk and Brittany just laughed.

"No fun sleeping in the tub. I've tried."

Santana raised an eyebrow. "Why would you do that?"

"I thought if he couldn't find me in my bed, he'd stop looking," Brittany shrugged. "He didn't. Obviously," she gave her friend a half smile.

Santana reached for Brittany's hand and pursed her lips out of sympathy. She didn't say anything but Brittany could hear it.

There it was, between the silence. The question.

_Are you okay?_

Now, Santana didn't do anything wrong. Her heart was simply breaking for Brittany and it wasn't like she could've helped it. She didn't mean to look at Brittany with a loaded inspection. But Brittany was getting tired of Santana looking at her like that— like she was going to break.

"I'm fine," Brittany yanked her hand out of Santana's and walked away. It had been almost a week after she told her what happened in the last 4 years. You'd think Santana was over it.

oOoOo

Sometimes Brittany regretted not telling Will and Emma the truth. All week long they had been telling Brittany to go hang out with Santana, Quinn and all of her old friends because they didn't know Brittany (or Santana, for that matter) wasn't really up for meeting people— you know, being a runaway and all.

Will and Emma not knowing the truth had its own perks though. Unlike Santana, or Puck who knew enough of her story even if it was only the abridged version, Will and Emma didn't look at her like she was about to break at any given moment. Sure, they'd check from time to time if she needed anything, but it was partly because she was a 'guest' in their house and nothing else. No hidden meanings.

So she didn't mind the attention she was getting from them. It wasn't hard to take. It was hard, though, to not do what they wanted her to do— get _friendly_.

Emma didn't give up inviting Brittany to school. She kept insisting that she'd feel better if Brittany wasn't alone in the house and, damn those big doe eyes, Brittany couldn't say no even though she really didn't like sitting in Emma's office. It wasn't that she didn't appreciate the company, because she really did, but her feelings about those pesky glass panels behind her hadn't changed. It took her all her might to not throw one of Emma's thick books at those windows and watch as a million tiny pieces burst into nothing but a mess.

For a few days, she had tried keeping still in that chair as Emma waited for the next student consultation. Just her luck though, it seemed that everyone in McKinley was normal and she was stuck watching Emma sharpen all her pencils until they were all the same length.

The one time a student came to the office, it was Jacob Ben Israel. She remembered his name because who could forget the boy whose foot Santana fractured a long time ago? He was sent there because a lot of the female students filed complaints for his perverted behavior.

She really didn't like being in the same room as Jacob. There was something about the way he was staring at her face that bothered her. If he were staring at her chest, she probably wouldn't mind it so much just because she knew he was just a hormonal teenage boy.

She knew a lot of people had seen her around, but high school students tend to not care about anything else that didn't include them. On another note, thanks to some sort of a sixth sense, Emma had been introducing her as 'a relative' to other teachers instead of just telling them her name. If they ended up asking about it directly to Brittany, or offered her a handshake and their own names, then Brittany would tell them. Most of them never did that though. Some of them seemed to recognize her face, but couldn't really tell if the face belonged to a memory or just a character they saw on TV.

But Jacob? Jacob was different. She knew he carried around a camera everywhere and Santana had told her that he owned a gossip blog. If he recognized her face, he would most probably be the first one to spread the news around. And she didn't know how far news could travel. Probably to Hell.

So Brittany just had to get away when he was still in the room. She excused herself, telling Emma she was bored and was going to take a walk. Emma kept glancing back and forth between Brittany and the boy sitting on the other side of the desk before she finally told her to have fun. She also warned her to be respectful of ongoing classes and to not bother the other students.

Brittany's first stop? The restroom. After being stared at by Jacob Ben Israel she really wanted to drench her face with cold water. She looked around, trying to figure out the ones that would have less students potentially coming in. She settled with the one closest to the teachers lounge.

"For the love of God and all things holy… Brittany?" Mercedes gasped as soon as the blonde girl entered the restroom. "Is that you?"

Brittany blinked a few times. Obviously she didn't expect to see a student, let alone one Mercedes Jones. But she couldn't deny the fact that it felt really good seeing her familiar face.

"Hi," Brittany offered a small wave. Mercedes hadn't changed at all— except for her hair. It was straight now, no longer big and curly. "Yeah, it's me."

Mercedes squealed like a done teapot before she gave Brittany a hug. Brittany winced because of the pressure Mercedes was giving her bruised sides, trying hard to hold back the shakes.

"I knew it was you! I knew it! Where have you been, girl? When did you got back?"

"A few days ago," Brittany only smiled, still in the middle of recomposing herself after that hug. The last thing she wanted was to breakdown in front of Mercedes.

"Oh my God! I can't believe you left without saying goodbye!"

"Yeah, sorry about that," Brittany scratched an imaginary itch on the back of her shoulder. "I didn't exactly have time to do it."

Mercedes scoffed. "Tell me about it. There were _so _many rumors back then. And oh my God, Satan was so worried. I've never seen her cry that many times."

Brittany furrowed her eyebrows. "Satan?"

"Oh, sorry," Mercedes grinned. "I mean Santana. That's just a nickname I gave her. She calls me Wheezy."

Brittany smiled simply to the explanation. "Did she really cry that much?"

"Giiirl, she was like... leaking. We stopped talking for a while. Kurt and I tried everything to, you know, make her smile or whatever. But I think we kind of overdid it and she just… pushed us away," Mercedes explained. "You know how Santana is."

Brittany bobbed her head up and down. She did know how Santana was.

"But you know," Mercedes continued. "Praise the Lord for Quinn because without that girl, I don't even wanna know what Santana would do. I mean, I still can't believe she's a cheerleader now."

"Yeah," Brittany smiled bitterly. "Me neither."

Mercedes caught that bitter smile and rolled her eyes at herself. She shouldn't have flaunted Santana and Quinn's friendship in front of Brittany because, let's be real, nobody liked being replaced.

"You should come to Glee club later," Mercedes changed the subject. "Maybe you can join the practice. Ooh! Maybe you can perform with us! Show us some moves or something. Do you still dance?"

"I haven't danced for a while, but anyway… Mercedes, I'm not even a student here," Brittany answered with a chuckle. "I don't think they'd let me."

"Oh please," Mercedes rolled her eyes playfully. "You know all you gotta do is pout and Mr. Schue's gonna let you in."

The blue-eyed girl smiled. "Maybe," she nodded. "Hey, uh… could you do me a favor?"

Mercedes nodded and pulled a few sheets of paper towel to wipe her hands. "What is it?"

"Could you please not tell anyone who I am?" Brittany scrunched her face and Mercedes looked at her funny. She tried to come up with a somewhat logical excuse. "I mean, I know people have been wondering who I am, but until they ask _me, _I don't want anybody to make a fuss out of it. I don't want anymore rumors."

"You got it, Britt," Mercedes told her. "I gotta go. I've been gone too long, my teacher's gonna start a search party for me. Talk to you later, okay?"

"Yeah," Brittany nodded. "Yeah, that'll be great."

oOoOo

Brittany's curiosity brought her to one of the rooms on the east wing. She was walking past it when, from the corner of her eye, she saw mirrors and ballet bars. Of course she had to stop and look.

Sometime late 2009, Doug made her quit all her dance lessons. Her teacher had noticed that Brittany had been spacing out a lot— she didn't pay enough attention to the lesson. The teacher also noticed how Brittany's movements started to get less and less fluid. Sometimes she would catch the girl wincing with a hand holding a spot on her body like she was injured underneath her dancewear.

Concerned, the teacher had a talk with the Geoffreys when they came for a recital. She asked if Brittany was having problems at school or at home that would prompt an injury of some sort. It only took a split second of a glare from Doug to shut Nancy up.

That night, when they got home, Doug saw red. He thought Brittany had been dropping hints and let people know about what he was doing to her. He sent Brittany to her room. He told her, _"I'll deal with you later!"_ and started to yell at Nancy for not 'taking care' of Brittany better. He pushed, punched and kicked her around to a pulp.

Nancy got up, time and time again just so she could stall him, in the hopes that he would, too, lose his energy before going up to Brittany's room. But Doug was a strong man and his anger made him even more forceful. When Nancy literally couldn't find the strength to get up anymore, he left her black and blue lying on the living room floor and climbed up the stairs to his daughter's room. _"I'm going to teach you a lesson," _he said to her as he unbuckled his belt.

A whistle blown from the gymnasium brought Brittany back to reality. She was grateful that while her whole body was shivering, the memory didn't stay long enough to shake her to the core. She took a step forward, reached for the door and pushed it opened after making sure nobody was watching her.

It was amazing.

It _felt_ amazing, to be surrounded by the things she was familiar with— the things that she had missed so much.

She stared at her reflection on the mirror. It seemed like all she did now was stare on her own reflection. Sometime she'd feel either unenthusiastic about it, other times she'd hate it, but there was something about _this_ reflection that she liked. She looked like she belonged there.

Brittany pulled out Will's iPod— he said she could use it to kill time— and pressed shuffle. She had to press the button a few times before she got passed all the Journey's, Christopher Cross' and Michael Bolton's before she heard a beautiful guitar intro.

She looked at the screen. **Annie Lennox – Waiting In Vain****_._**

She started to sway. It was like she was in a trance. Her body moved with the music, like the beat just owned her. She glided from one edge of the room to another and just… dance. She used all the space, all the wooden surface that she had in that room to surrender to the music. A grande jete here, a pirouette there. And when it was almost at the end of the song and Annie Lennox was telling her that there was lots of grief in life, she twirled a fouette. Over and over again until the tears in her eyes made her dizzy. She lost her footing and fell.

"I'm impressed," said someone at the door with a slow clap and Brittany looked up. It was a woman in a tracksuit with a whistle hanging on her neck and a clipboard held in her armpit. "I should be kicking you out, blondie, but that was pretty good. Who are you?"

Brittany got up and took off her earphones. "Brittany."

"Brittany, I know you're not a student," Sue started walking towards her. "I keep track of every single one of them. So. Who are you? What are you doing here?"

"I'm, uh," Brittany took a step back. This woman was very scary.

"Come on!" Sue yelled, much like how she would yell at her Cheerios, and Brittany felt her breathing stop. "I don't have all day!"

Sue watched as the girl in front of her landed on her butt and scurried on the floor, to the back of the room, closer to where the mirrors were installed. Her eyes were wide and her jaw tightened— she was completely in terror. "I'm sorry," she mumbled over and over again. "Please don't hit me."

But Brittany didn't see the change in Sue's facial expression. She didn't see Sue offering her a gentle hand and an apology. She couldn't. All she saw was Doug being angry, ready to violate her in every way possible.

"Brittany!" she heard a familiar voice, but she couldn't really make out whose it was. "Coach!" she heard it again. It wasn't until the owner got down on their knees and pulled her into a hug that she realized it was Santana. She just cried. She knew the scary lady was still in the room, but she didn't even care anymore.

oOoOo

"You okay?" Brittany heard a soft voice when she finally opened her eyes. It wasn't Santana's and she jolted into a sitting position. "Hey, hey. Calm down, it's okay," the voice told her and she looked to the source— a pretty blonde girl with big hazel eyes. She knew who it was.

"Santana's still talking to Sue," Quinn said with a warm smile. "You're stuck with me for a while. I promise it won't take long."

Brittany looked around her and found out that she was still in the dance room. "My head hurts," she said.

Quinn smiled again. "Here," she handed Brittany an Advil and a bottle of water. "Santana told me you're going to need it. I'm Quinn, by the way."

Brittany took the medication and water from the other girl's hands. "I know."

"Aren't you going to tell me your name?"

Brittany scoffed. "I think you already know what my name is."

"I do, but my dad once told me first impressions are important, so," Quinn offered a handshake, "hi, my name is Quinn. What's yours?"

Brittany blinked. For a moment there she wanted to bawl her eyes again because what Quinn just said to her reminded her of her real dad, and oh, the things she would do to have his arms around her right that moment.

"Brittany," she stretched a hand and shook Quinn's firmly. The latter girl smiled, almost too sweetly and too sincere that she wanted to slap her silly.

Outside the classroom, Santana and Sue were having hushed conversation about what just happened. Every time a student or a teacher walked by them, they sent them death glares that they started walking faster.

"It's her, isn't it?" Sue asked and Santana huffed.

"Yes."

"Even if I hadn't seen the pictures, judging from what happened earlier, I'd still say she had a rough time," Sue told her matter-of-factly. "How long?"

"Four years."

"Who was it?"

"Her step dad."

"Dear God," Sue breathed out and covered her mouth with a hand.

"Coach, please keep this to yourself for now. She doesn't even know I came to you about this."

"Santana, as much as I love staying away from the Keebler elves living in Will Schuester's hair, this isn't a simple matter. What I saw in those pictures… this is bad. And her reaction just now just confirmed it that she's deeply traumatized. If she's living under Schuesters' roof right now, they deserve to know about it," Sue laid it down for her, surprisingly, very gently. "I don't even know how you convinced them to let her stay."

"It was easy, believe me," Santana rolled her eyes.

Sue smirked, "atta girl," she said and Santana could feel the atmosphere turning a little bit lighter. "Who else knows about this. What about Q? Does she know?"

"You, me, Puckerman. That's it. Quinn doesn't know much. I told her to just be very gentle to Brittany and not make sudden movements before she went in there," Santana jerked her chin. "But nothing else."

Sue took a deep breath. "Alright," she told the young girl. As if on cue, she saw blonde hair coming out of the door and decided the conversation should halt. "We'll talk about this later," she said as she made a pivot and walked the other way.

"Hey," Quinn tapped Santana's shoulder and the Latina turned around. "Everything alright with the coach?"

"Yeah," Santana gave her a small smile. "Sorry to leave you alone with Brittany. I just had to—"

"It's fine," Quinn shook her head. "Though I don't think she likes me very much."

"Why, what happened?"

"Well, for starters, she's not as sweet as I imagined she would be," Quinn let out a deep breath. "Let's just say I've never felt this awful for living with my parents. Or being a cheerleader. Or being a blonde. Or having big eyes. You know, I don't think I've ever heard that many F-bombs in my entire life."

"I'm so sorry," Santana wiped her face with both her hands. "Please don't be mad."

Quinn shook her head again. "I'm not mad at her. I'm not mad at you either. I'm just… It's frustrating to see that you both are clearly going through something and I can't do anything about it, because I don't _know_ anything."

Santana huffed. "You know I can't tell you yet, Q."

"I know and it's perfectly fine," Quinn gave her friend a hug. "I just thought the three of us could be friends."

"Yeah, I thought so too."

That same moment, Brittany stepped out of the classroom and witnessed the hug between the two best friends. For the second time that week, she stormed out the nearest exit. Santana didn't see the whole thing, as she was facing the other way. But she'd recognize the sound of Brittany's footsteps anywhere.

"Go," Quinn pulled out of the hug. "I'll tell Mr. Schue you had to take care of a Cheerios thing with Sue or something."

oOoOo

It was excruciating.

Her palms were sweating, her legs couldn't stop fidgeting and her head couldn't break free from the howling wind that kept haunting her out of nowhere. Every time she closed her eyes she saw darkness and got transferred back to Hell, and every time she opened her eyes she felt like she was cooped up in that closet like when she was little.

Nobody came to rescue her that day— at least, not soon enough. Being so set on fixing the clogged pipe herself, her mom was a little bit relieved that Brittany didn't go into the kitchen to look for her. She paused once in a while to listen in case Brittany was calling for her from the living room, but she never heard anything that wasn't Oscar the Grouch or Elmo. She figured Brittany was having fun with the TV and her snacks.

Little Brittany, on the other hand, felt like she had been in that closet for days. It was fun when the lights were still on, but when it suddenly got dark, it was like she automatically shut down. Forget screaming for her mother and kicking on the door— she couldn't even cry. She felt around and once she got to a wall (it turned out to be a drawer), she just sat there with her back against it.

It felt like forever and nobody was coming.

Nobody was coming.

oOoOo

Even though it was only the second time, Santana thought it was kind of like a routine— Brittany running away from the school and her running after Brittany. She reminded herself to save for a new pair of tennis shoes the next time she got her allowance.

She was smarter this time. When she got to the house, she didn't run frantically like what she did a few days before. Instead, she went looking for Lord Tubbington. She knew he couldn't stay away from Brittany because; let's face it, who could?

The cat meowed from upstairs and Santana found him scratching on the bedroom door.

"I don't know if I should ask you to buy me a new pair of shoes for making me run all the way home, for the second time this week, or just thank you for giving me a reason to skip my classes," Santana said casually, walking into the room to find Brittany on her bed with a magazine in front of her. She sat on her own bed, dangling her legs over the side.

"If you're done making jokes you could just leave me the fuck alone," Brittany said to her with too much venom for her liking.

"What is your problem?" Santana crossed her arms, trying hard to not yell at Brittany. Patience was never a quality of hers.

"My problem? You wanna know my problem?" Brittany slammed the magazine she was holding to the bed and stood up. "Okay, well, you were hugging my problem!"

"You mean Quinn?" Santana scrunched her face. "I asked her to stay with you while I talked to the Coach and she didn't even think twice about it. She didn't mind it at all. She's being a good friend!"

"Oh, well, there we go. She's your_ good_ _friend_," Brittany used her fingers to make air quotes and Santana felt her jaw dropped. What was so wrong about being friends with Quinn?

"Yeah!" Santana stood up too, feeling the need to defend Quinn. "Yeah, she is! I just needed her to make sure you were okay and—"

"I don't want her help! I don't want people asking me if I'm okay all the time! I don't fucking need to be fixed!"

"Brit—"

"No! You listen!" Brittany yelled and pointed at Santana, who took a step back because this Brittany actually terrified her to the core. "You know, I kept my end of the promise. I came back because you made me promise to come back if—"

Brittany couldn't continue her words as her voice started to crack, but it didn't matter because Santana already realized what she was talking about. _"You run back to me if anything bad happens. Anything, you hear me, Britt?"_

"But you…" Brittany started again after she took a deep breath.

Santana cleared her throat and asked gently. She needed to get used to Brittany's alternating personalities. "What did I do, B?"

Brittany wiped a tear from the corner of her eyes. "You forgot about me. You said you wouldn't, but now you have a new best friend!"

"Is that what this is about? Is that how you feel?"

"You wanna know how I feel?" Brittany gritted her teeth and Santana prepared herself for Brittany Number 3 to return. "I'll tell you how I feel. Every day, when I see Emma making breakfast, all I want her to do is stab me with a knife. Every time when I'm in the bathroom I look for a razorblade, but this stupid house doesn't keep any!"

Santana didn't do it often but that moment she thanked God that she decided to keep her toiletries in a small pouch in one of the drawers instead of leaving them lying around on top of the vanity.

"Every time we cross the road I want to just throw myself in front of a car," said Brittany. "But this freaking small town has stop signs all over the place and it just never happened!"

Santana launched herself at Brittany and hugged her so tight, that no matter how hard Brittany fought, she couldn't escape. When Brittany started to throw punches along with her attempts to push Santana away, Santana tightened her hold.

"Stop it! Stop squirming and for once, listen to me! Listen!" she made her voice louder. "I didn't forget about you. You were in my thoughts every day. Every single minute and every freaking second."

"You're lying."

"Brittany," Santana sighed. "I would never lie to you. Have I ever?"

The blue-eyed girl didn't say a thing and Santana knew Brittany was at a lost finding an answer. The good thing about it was that it stopped Brittany's struggling.

Santana broke away and pulled Brittany so that they both sat on the edge of Santana's bed. She opened a drawer on her nightstand— the same drawer where she kept an article about her father's death— and pulled out a tiny box. Then another and another until she was out of them.

"Open it," she handed one to Brittany who just looked at her confused. She pushed the box into her hands and urged her again. "Open it."

Brittany finally opened the box and saw… a silver cat.

"That's a charm, for your bracelet," Santana took out the cat from the box and attached it to the bracelet on Brittany's wrist. It matches the one she was wearing—Brittany gave it to her a long time ago. "This is Tubbs."

Santana opened another one and pulled out a silver pair of ballet shoes that she then attached to another ring on Brittany's bracelet. "Because you loved dancing so much," she told Brittany. "That was your 12th birthday present. I didn't have enough money to buy you something fancy."

"This one," Santana continued, opening another box. "I bought after Will and Emma took us to Baltimore. We went to the National Aquarium and I saw a dolphin for the first time," she took out the charm and, just like before, attached it to Brittany's wrist. "I knew you would've loved seeing them, so I bought you one of these."

Santana went through all the charms one by one, explaining them to Brittany, taking her through all the important things that happened during their lost time of 4 years. By the time they got to the last box, Brittany's bracelet only had room for 2 more of them. Neither of them had dry eyes.

Santana opened the last box and chuckled when she saw what was in it.

"A unicorn," Santana fastened the charm on Brittany's bracelet. "Because you believed in magic."

"There's no such thing as magic," Brittany mumbled through her sniffles.

"I said that, I know. But now I know it's not true," Santana enveloped Brittany's hand with her own. "I've known it for a while now. _You _were my magic. You were the best thing about my life. You still are, Brittany. When he took you away I looked for you everywhere and I couldn't find you."

Brittany let out a shaky breath. "You gave up."

"I did give up," Santana squeezed her friend's hand. "But only because I wasn't smart enough to figure out where he might've taken you. But I never, _ever_ gave up on _you. _I never stopped wishing you were here."

"You're lying," Brittany tried to pull her hand out of Santana's. But the grip was too strong and she failed. "You replaced me with Quinn."

Santana shook her head. "I didn't. And she knows she can't," she looked into Brittany's eyes so that the blonde girl could see she wasn't lying. "But yes, she's been there for me all these years, B, and I'm not going to deny it. Do you know what she said to me when I _finally_ told her about you? She said, _'when she comes back, the three of us, and probably Mercedes, are gonna start a girl band.'_ She said _when_, Britt. Not _if. When_," Santana wiped an eye with her free hand. "I mean, I've always believed you were gonna come back to me someday. But hearing it from someone else really meant a lot."

"If you wanna be angry, B," Santana continued. "Be angry with me for not looking hard enough for you. Don't be angry with Quinn. And most importantly, don't be angry at yourself."

A pause. Nothing was heard except for a car passing down the road.

"You said you don't want to be fixed, but deep down I know you do," Santana took a deep breath, scared that she might've said too much. But the girl whose hand she was holding didn't say a word so she continued. "I didn't think I wanted to be fixed either, but then _you_ came along and even though I couldn't get myself to completely heal, I wasn't hurting as much anymore. Hate me all you want, but I'm not gonna stop asking if you're okay, because I want you to be okay. I _need_ you to be okay. And I'm not going to stop trying to fix you."

Santana reached for Brittany's other hand so that both were in hers. "I believe in you, Brittany, as much as you believed in me."

Brittany shook her head. "I'm not worth it. I'm worthless."

"You're worth everything, Brittany. You're my best friend. I love you."

"No you don't," Brittany pulled her hands out of Santana's, but once again, she failed. "He said nobody's gonna love me."

"Don't listen to him," Santana squeezed her hands. "He doesn't exist anymore. There's a lot of people who love you."

"I'm just so tired, Santana. So, so tired," Brittany sobbed and Santana pulled her into her arms.

"I know," Santana tightened her hug. "But… remember that day when you wanted to be sad, and then I said I'm going to be happy for the both of us?" Santana felt Brittany nod. "We can do that. You go ahead and be tired for as long as you want. I'll be the strong one. If you want to cry, cry. If you want to hit something, hit something. Just promise me you'll _stay_. Promise me you'll _want_ to live," she held up a pinky. "It won't work if I'm the only one believing the magic, B. I need you to believe too."

Words couldn't describe what Santana was feeling when Brittany finally, very slowly, latched her pinky onto her own. It was everything at once, but most of all, solace.

As for Brittany, she could see streaks of light coming through that closet door.

Somebody _was _coming.

* * *

><p><em><strong>AN:** Hope I didn't do too bad w/ this chapter x)_

_**MissAB:** Aww. Miss you too! Thanks for reading it even though you're busy! Also, hope the Eid Al Fitr vacation did you good :D If you celebrated it, Eid Mubarak to you!_

_**Sophiaggulak: **Welcome, welcome :) :) Take a seat and buckle up because you're just about to go on a (hopefully not too) crazy ride._

_**sgiambra22: **ma'am yes ma'am. Here's your update, lol._

_**runephoenix6769:** there's an homage to our conversation about Tubbs in this chapter. Did you find it? Ahahaha._


	27. Secrets

_**A/N: **Filler chapter! A.k.a. i-feel-bad-for-always-making-you-cry chapter a.k.a. the calm before yet another storm._

_Thanks for all the reviews, guys. Looks like you liked the scene with the charms? #success! I'm glad it worked because I had it set up since before Britt was taken away xD_

_Anyway, somebody asked if B&S will be romantic in this story. I'm leaning towards it (because I mean, Brittana is endgame, d'uh! — even though it's starting to sound like they're breaking them up in the show...), just thinking of the best way to do it. But what do y'all think?_

_**NYABG:** I haven't found one! Must. Google. Cryingbabywhale._

_**anon: **"eternal sobs" lmao that actually cracked me up._

_**MissAB: **you too! :D P.S. I'm kind of jealous you get to celebrate it back home LOL. Kangen mudik. _

_Sorry I haven't been replying through PMs to registered members. Super swamped right now, but I promise I will!_

_Enjoy!_

* * *

><p>"Do you have Mercedes' number?" Brittany asked Santana as they were getting ready for bed. It was Friday night and they could've stayed up late if they wanted to, but Brittany knew Santana was spent from her cheer practice all week long. She practically had to drag Santana upstairs after dinner because her legs just seemed to refuse to work.<p>

Santana nodded. "Yeah. Why?"

"I was thinking that maybe we could, uh, hang out with her tomorrow?"

Santana smiled. "Let's ask her." She was over the moon with the fact that Brittany proposed the idea first. She knew Brittany didn't really want to meet other people if she didn't have to. She knew it was partly because she didn't want anybody to recognize her face, and it made sense. There was one flaw, though. Brittany couldn't hide from other people forever, because that would just be suspicious. _Emma and Will_ would be suspicious, and if they decided to look into things, if they decided to look for Doug... Well, let's not think about that right now.

But Santana had been there before— sort of. In a totally different setting, and with totally different history, she'd been where Brittany was. She knew it was partly Brittany's excuse to build her walls up. And if anybody knew about building walls, it was Santana.

Santana grabbed her phone that was charging on the nightstand and typed away.

**_Wheezy, hang out tomorrow with me and B?_**

They didn't have to wait long for a reply. Mercedes was probably getting ready to bed as well and had nothing else to do that night.

**_I've been waiting for this text all week! Let's do it. Where are we going?_**

Santana showed the text message to Brittany and handed it to the other girl so she could type in a reply.

**_Farmhouse ice cream at noon? – B_**

Brittany handed the phone back to Santana so that she could read it. When Santana gave her a nod, Brittany pressed the Send button. Not even a full minute later, the phone buzzed in the blonde girl's hands.

**_Sounds good. C U tomorrow! xo_**

"Awesome," Santana plopped down onto her bed backwards. "Hey," Santana propped herself up on one elbow. "Are you gonna tell Mercedes? About… you know…"

Brittany shrugged. "I don't know."

"You know she's gonna ask you about stuff, right?"

"Yeah," Brittany took a deep breath. "I'm just gonna tell her the truth."

"Really?"

"Yeah, really," Brittany nodded. "Just… not the whole truth. I mean, I can tell her most things. Like my school. Or the town. You know, the safe part."

Santana pursed her lips and made small nods. "Okay," she said. "Just let me know if you want me to cut in. Oh! I know! We should invent a secret code or something."

Brittany chuckled. "You sound like me now."

"That's never a bad thing," Santana gave her a warm smile.

oOoOo

The ice cream parlor stayed the same, barring some new furniture, and it pleased Brittany. She remembered the old days when her and Santana would go there every other weekend, just the two of them. Most of the time they'd share a banana split (or two) and just sit there for hours at a table right next to the window. Santana would make snarky comments about passersby and Brittany would remind her to be nicer— but never before laughing along with the darker girl.

Just their luck, that particular table was empty and was free for them to occupy. So while Santana ordered for both of them, Brittany attempted origami from paper napkins.

Brittany could feel Santana's eyes on her, even though they were 10-20 feet apart. It felt weird— almost annoying— at first, but she completely understood why Santana was doing it. If Santana admitted to her that she had been having suicidal thoughts, she probably would keep an eye of her too. She'd start standing closer to the knife drawer in the kitchen in case Santana got inspired, she'd rid the bathroom of sharp objects, and last but not least, she'd link their arms crossing the street.

"What the hell is that?" Santana asked when she came back with a bowl of banana split and two spoons in her hands, looking at something in Brittany's hands.

"It's a lotus," Brittany held up her flower and the petals lamely flopped down. She chuckled, "well, it _was_ a lotus."

Santana laughed. "Remind me to buy you construction paper before we get home later."

The bell above the door dinged and they both looked at the entrance hoping to see a friend and they did.

Not Mercedes, though. It was Quinn.

She didn't see them when she walked in and went straight to the counter to order.

Brittany tilted her head and noticed that Quinn didn't just 'walk'. She glided. She was all proper with her summer dress and a little purse that matched her cardigan. Brittany wondered if Quinn was secretly a princess— or a queen, maybe. Ha. That would be funny. Queen Quinn.

"I can text Mercedes if you wanna go someplace else," Santana's voice took Brittany out of her thoughts.

Brittany blinked. "Why would I wanna do that?"

Santana shrugged. "You hate her," she jerked her chin to where Quinn was.

"I don't hate her," Brittany shook her head and answered quietly. "At least, not anymore. I was just angry and you know that. Plus, you've already told me what she did for you these past few years..." Brittany let her words linger in the air and didn't finish. She got up from her chair and before Santana could stop her she walked towards Quinn.

Santana could only watch from afar (and pray nothing bad would happen) as Brittany and Quinn quietly talked. She could only make out Quinn's face from where she was sitting as Brittany was facing the other way, and was slightly relaxed by the genuine smile her friend was donning on her face. When Quinn shook her head at Brittany though, Santana winced with fear that they would start pulling each other's hair. But then when she saw a hug between the two girls, Santana realized that Brittany was offering an apology and Quinn didn't want it. She closed her eyes for a spell and wondered what she had done right in her life that she deserved to be graced with two amazing human beings as her friends.

Brittany looked over her shoulder to give Santana a simple smile before talking to Quinn again, and making the second blonde wave at Santana excitedly. Before she knew it, both of her friends were standing in front of her.

"Get up," Brittany ordered Santana. Quinn standing behind her.

"What?" Santana was completely stunned by the surprise command. But she stood up nonetheless.

Brittany smiled and picked up their ice cream bowl. "We're gonna need a bigger table," she explained. "Quinn's joining us."

"Brittany invited me," Quinn chimed in. "Is that okay, San?"

Santana's eyes darted from Quinn to Brittany, and to Quinn again before she finally answered with hurried nods. She had been waiting for this moment for far too long— for Quinn and Brittany to meet and be friends.

They found a table fit for 4 people and Mercedes came through the door not 3 minutes after. She waved at them before pointing at the ice cream counter to get the other girls' permission to get her ice cream before sitting at the same table. She came back with 2 scoops of strawberry cheesecake ice cream in her hands and gave hugs to Brittany, Santana and, as much as she was surprised to see her there, Quinn.

Mercedes, as the loudest girl between the four of them, had to open the conversation about Jacob and his last antics that got him sent to Sue's office on Friday. Santana, Brittany and Quinn hadn't heard about it so they asked Mercedes to tell them more. Apparently, during a sudden inspection of the boys' lockers, they found extra keys for the Cheerios locker room. He swore they weren't his, but with a track record like his, who would believe him?

Quinn and Santana shuddered at the thought of Jacob Ben Israel inside the locker room— they used it almost everyday with the other Cheerios. After she was done gagging, Quinn told Santana that as the team leaders, they needed to check for suspicious items (cameras, tape recorders) that Jacob might have planted inside. Santana instantly agreed to the idea. She wondered out loud if she should break both his foot this time just so that he wouldn't be able to walk anywhere— an idea that had Mercedes and Brittany roaring with laughter, but Quinn with a confused look on her face. Brittany and Mercedes then took turns to tell the story, and just like that, all ice was broken.

"Okay, then!" Mercedes clapped her hands together. "Next topic. Quinn, are you still singing with the choir tomorrow? I didn't see you at practice today."

"Oh," She put a hand on Mercedes' arm. "Tell your mom sorry I wasn't there today. I had to help my mom run some errands for this huge dinner party my dad is having tonight for his colleagues. Apparently, it's a surprise— to all of us. I swear my dad's getting weirder and weirder every day."

"Wait," Santana scrunched her eyebrows. "You guys go to the same church? How come I didn't know about this?"

Mercedes rolled her eyes. "This is exactly why you need to pay attention to what other people are saying, Satan. Quinn and I have been going to the same church for almost a year now. Remember? I moved to a new house?"

"I miss your mom," Brittany chimed in. "Her fried chicken was the best. Remember you used to brought us some and all the other kids would get jealous because they smelled so good?"

Santana rested her chin on an elbow and nodded dreamily. "My mouth waters just thinking about it."

"Oh God," Quinn imitated Santana's pose. "Now _I_ need to try it. How come you've never told me about your mom's chicken?"

Mercedes chuckled. "Tell you what?" she said to Quinn. "Come to church on Tuesday to help sort our donation box and I'll make sure you come home with some fried goodness."

"Deal," Quinn grinned.

"Anyway, I didn't know you were gonna be here today, Quinn," Mercedes said, putting a spoonful of strawberry goodness into her mouth. "Wait, that didn't sound right."

Quinn chuckled. "It's okay. I didn't know either. Brittany asked me to join you and it was either this or listening to Frannie bragging about yet another good grade she got for a report."

"Who's Frannie?" asked Brittany. She really needed to keep up with all the new names she kept hearing.

"Quinn's older sister," Santana explained, looking at Quinn to see if she could tell Brittany more. When she got a casual shrug in return, she continued. "Her name is actually Francesca but we call her Frannie because it annoys her when we do it."

"So, Quinn and Francesca?" Brittany asked and Quinn nodded. "You guys have really pretty names."

Quinn gave her half a smile, "thanks." After a pause, she spoke again. "That's not my real name, though."

Mercedes tilted her head. It was her first time hearing this. "It's not?"

Quinn shook her head slowly, looking down at her ice cream. "It's actually Lucy. Quinn is my middle name. So… Lucy Quinn Fabray. I dropped that first name when I came here."

"You didn't like Lucy?" asked Brittany and Quinn could hear that it wasn't actually a question. It was more like a statement— or a conclusion that Brittany somehow got from a few seconds of a faltering look on Quinn's hazel eyes.

Santana watched the interaction unfold leaning back on her seat. She was amazed at how similar, yet totally different, Brittany and Quinn were at that point in their lives. She was amazed at the fact that they were both very good at reading her (and perhaps each other)— she wondered if she was that good at reading them too.

She remembered the first day she met Quinn. It was at their lockers and Quinn was a new student who was going to take over Brittany's locker. She remembered Quinn shaking her hand and told Santana her name was, _"Lu— Quinn."_ Had she been thinking clearly and not worried to death about Brittany, she would've done a double take at how Quinn had seemed to forget her own name. She probably would throw a witty (or perhaps evil) line about how the way she was dressed like an old lady at church matched her senile memory.

She met Quinn's mom that same day and she couldn't refuse the woman's offer to drive her home— Judy Fabray wasn't someone who would take 'no' for an answer; you could tell from how she held her chin high. The whole way home, Santana kept hearing Judy calling Quinn 'Lucy' from the driver's seat. She thought it was kind of weird that Judy was calling her daughter with the wrong name, but, again, she was already pre-occupied with plans to find her missing best friend and whatever name Judy wanted to call Quinn with didn't matter as much.

It took a whole day of yelling from none other than Sue Sylvester about her fluctuating weight for Quinn to finally breakdown and told Santana about what she thought was an embarrassing past.

Apparently Quinn got bullied a lot in her old school. She never knew what started the bullying at the first place apart from being a bookworm with large glasses, braces and extra rolls all over her body. To her recollection, she never even did anything to offend the other kids. But kids could be really mean, and when the bullying got really bad that she had to spend entire days locked in the girls' restroom, she begged her dad for a transfer, and a makeover.

_Lucy Caboosey_ no more, Quinn moved to McKinley High School late 2005 and the rest was history.

"I didn't hate Lucy, but Quinn is…" the hazel-eyed blonde thought of a word to 'answer' Brittany without giving anything away. "Better. Quinn is better."

"Well," Brittany shrugged. "_I_ like Quinn. And I bet I'd still like Lucy if I had met her," she said simply.

The two blondes smiled at each other, knowing that _that_ particular moment was their fresh start, and Santana felt like another brick had been shoved down from her shoulders.

Santana felt bad that Mercedes seemed to be left out from the conversation. But then she looked at the girl sitting at the other side of the table and saw that Mercedes was smiling at her with something that looked like… relief? It was as if she had been waiting for Brittany to give Quinn a seal of approval too for Santana's sake.

So… make that _three_ amazing human beings.

"So, Britt," Mercedes scooped into her ice cream. "What did you do in Tennessee? I mean, why did you even move?"

Brittany shared a glance with Santana before she answered, trying really hard to not reveal anything with her expression. "Um, my stepdad got a new job there."

"Did you like it there?" Mercedes asked again.

"Brittany really doesn't have to if she don't want to, though," Quinn told Mercedes, looking at her pointedly. She didn't know why she wanted to build these fences around Brittany even though they just met, but she did. She figured it was because she was really close with Santana, and Santana thought the world of the other girl. Santana didn't think that way of any other person that she knew and that said a lot.

Plus, she had seen Brittany in her most vulnerable moment that other day in the dance room. And even though she didn't know what had caused it in the first place, it was still really heartbreaking to witness. She'd hate to see Brittany that way again.

Mercedes, while not the kind of person who would take crap from anybody, had to admit that the look Quinn was giving her kind of _did _intimidate her. She shot a look at Santana to see if she would help her, but Santana was doing all she could to pretend that she wasn't even listening to the conversation. She was letting Brittany take control. If Brittany had needed her help, she would've had said something about unicorns already. It was their safe word.

Brittany was quick to read the situation. She understood what Quinn was trying to do and she appreciated it. She knew it must've taken Quinn a lot of self-restraint to not try and dig into her past after seeing that particular incident between herself and Sue the other day. To hear that Quinn was still interested in protecting her bubble was further confirmation that Quinn was worth her friendship.

"I liked Lima better," Brittany told the table honestly. She shot a grateful glance to Quinn, who immediately relaxed when she saw it. "It wasn't a super small town… I actually think it's bigger than Lima. But I lived far from everywhere. All I did was school and dance lessons."

It was true. Doug had it all figured out. He bought a house on a big chunk of land just outside the city so that he wouldn't have nosy neighbors, _and_ so that neither Nancy, nor Brittany, could easily walk towards safety.

"You still dance? That's awesome. I remember you liking your classes so much that sometimes you'd twirl in the hallways."

Santana laughed. "She still does it!"

"No, I don't!" Brittany gasped, embarrassed at the revelation.

"Britt, you twirled coming down the stairs this morning! You almost bumped into Emma, remember?"

"Did I really?" Brittany furrowed her eyebrows. She really couldn't remember. "I didn't realize it. I mean, it's been so hard with the bruises so I've been very careful, San."

Brittany saw Santana's eyes widened as soon as she finished her sentence and felt the other two girls on the table looking at her strangely. Quinn, in particular, was looking at her like she was figuring out something.

"Bruises?" Mercedes frowned. "What bruises, Britt?"

Brittany panicked. "It's uh… unicorn bruises."

Santana would've laughed at the answer if she weren't in on their secret code.

Mercedes raised an eyebrow. "What the hell are unicorn bruises?"

"What Brittany meant to say was," Santana interjected, scrambling for excuses in her head. "She got tackled by a neighbor's little boy that we babysat. We were pretending to be animals."

"Your neighbors are all old," Quinn stated with a straight face. "There are no little kids in your neighborhood," Quinn said again, this time looking at Brittany and Santana mistook it as her being pushy.

"Yes, there are," said Santana. She softly kicked Quinn's shin and sent the girl a look that said _I need you to drop this. _Quinn bit the inside of her cheeks and returned her attention to her half-eaten ice cream in front of her.

"O-kaaaay," Mercedes drew her words, confused about what just happened. "You know what? Whatever. Unicorn bruises, fairy bruises… I don't need to know what they are. As long as you're alright. Now," Mercedes looked pointedly at Brittany. "Are you?"

"Yeah," Brittany cleared her throat and answered, probably with a voice too excited, "I'm great!"

oOoOo

For the first time ever, Puck had his whole family on the bleachers as he defended his team's honor that Sunday afternoon at the neighborhood game. He was completely taken aback when he saw Santana, and Brittany, coming out of the car with Will and Emma, but he didn't mind it at all. He then made a bet with himself that Brittany was the one who made Santana agree to come to the game.

When the darker girl wished her good luck, he just smugly raised an eyebrow and told her that he didn't need it. Of course it earned her an epic proportion of an eye roll from Santana, but when he moved his hands to pat both of the girls on their heads, he could feel them linger against the palm of his hands and that was worth almost everything in the world for all three of them.

The crowd, made out of proud parents, and a few of the players' girlfriends, went crazy when they announced the players' names. When Puck was called to the field, he held up his hands and pointed to where the four of them were seated, promising them a touch down. Will and Emma whistled and cheered at the gestures, just like what the other parents did when their sons entered the field. Santana, while looking characteristically uninterested in any of the other players, clapped her hands for him even though unlike Will, Emma and Brittany, she kept herself seated. Brittany, still dressed in her layers even though the weather was quite warm, covered her ears with both her hands while giving him thumbs up at the same time.

Brittany had been super excited about watching a football game for the first time. The fact that Puck was playing was an added bonus that she wouldn't have missed for the world. She climbed the bleachers like a little kid going into a Toys 'R Us and chose 4 seats right in the middle so her eyes could cover the whole field. Will and Emma laughed at how adorable Brittany was being, looking at her like she was the same 11-year-old who came to their house almost 5 years ago, while Santana was just happy that for a moment Brittany was able to be excited about something.

But about 10 minutes into the game, Santana noticed that Brittany started to fidget in her seat. Her knees were moving up and down and every time the crowd roared to their feet, she closed her eyes like something sharp was pricking on her skin. Luckily Santana came prepared. She opened her bag and pulled out her iPod, and not just a pair of earphones, but headphones. Even though they couldn't take away all the anxiety Brittany was feeling, Santana thought the music coming through the headphones could at least block all the loud noises Brittany didn't favor.

Brittany was too busy closing her eyes and calming herself down for her to notice Santana's plan for her. When she felt something brushing the sides of her head, she flinched.

"It's just me, B," Brittany heard her voice and she automatically relaxed. When Santana asked Brittany to trust her, she internally laughed because she already did with all her life.

After a not so grueling fight (the other team kind of sucked) Puck's team had won and as a celebration, the adults took them to a pizza place down at Shawnee Road. On the backseat of the car on their way there, Brittany quietly asked Santana if Emma was going to be okay with looking at all the ooey-gooey goodness of hot melted cheese all over their hands and Santana told her to relax.

"Don't worry about it," Santana whispered back. There were such confidence and pride in her voice that Brittany couldn't wait until they got to the parlor.

When they got there, the manager greeted them. He was actually at the game that day and recognized Puck as 'that boy who ran the touch down twice'. His son was on the losing team, but he held no grudge. In fact, he sat them at a booth even though the hostess out front said that there wasn't any left.

"That was a really great game, Noah," Emma said with a smile as she wiped the table (cleaner) with a napkin. The waiter had taken their orders and now they were just waiting for the food to arrive.

"Thanks," Puck grinned.

Brittany hummed to agree. "You were awesome! I kept my eyes on you the entire time."

"You should see him in a real game, Brittany," said Will as he helped Emma wipe their side of the table. "He's ruthless. Coach Beiste names him MVP after almost every game."

"Really?" Brittany's eyes beamed with delight. "When's the next game?"

Puck narrowed his eyes and looked up to the ceiling to remember the exact date.

Santana scoffed at him. "May 7, dummy."

"Oh, yeah," he said. "May 7. Are you coming, Britt?"

"I really want to," Brittany smiled. Even though she really wanted to go, she couldn't promise him something she couldn't keep. With her being a runaway, anything could happen.

She turned to look at Santana who was sipping her water. "Are you?"

"She's going to be on the field," Will smiled.

"Why?" Brittany scrunched her face. "Are you playing too? 'Cause I don't think I want to see you get trampled by all those guys."

Santana shook her head and put her glass down. "No, Britt. I'm a cheerleader."

"Oh," Brittany nodded slowly. She forgot Santana was a Cheerio now. Brittany bit her bottom lip. "So you won't be sitting on the bleachers? What about after you cheer?"

Santana shook her head again with an apologetic smile. "The Glee club is going to perform halftime," she shared a glance with Will. "So I kinda have to be there at all times."

"Are you worried you won't know anybody there? You can sit with us, honey," Emma broke the silence. "The game doesn't start until late, so if you don't want to be at the school in the morning, Will and I can still pick you up at the house?"

Brittany opened her mouth and closed it again. She wanted to tell them that she wasn't worried about not knowing anybody in the crowd— in fact, she would've preferred it that way. But the thought of watching the game in the middle of a much larger crowd who would most definitely be louder than the one that she was in just hours ago already made her weak in the knees. She simply survived the game because Santana was there and Brittany knew she wouldn't have let anything happen to her. Santana even brought headphones in her bag even though she didn't normally use them. And let's get something straight. Even though those headphones were specifically intended for Brittany's comfort, Brittany didn't think she would've lasted the whole game if Santana wasn't holding her hand the entire time.

But Brittany couldn't say all those things. She couldn't say she would rather sit with Santana rather than Will and Emma. That would've just hurt their feelings. So she settled with a nod and a smile. "I'd like that, thank you." She still had some time to figure out a plan. Let's just wait until then.

As if on cue, the waiter came back to their table with their pans of pizza. They couldn't agree on just one, so they ordered two mediums with different toppings. The scorching hot pizzas looked so good, not even Santana could resist the temptation. She just needed to remind herself to run an extra lap come Monday. Or maybe two.

As Puck, Will and Santana grabbed a slice of their preferred pizza, Brittany watched as Emma calmly did the same. She saw a little bit of grease going down Emma's hand, but the woman didn't even flinch. She grabbed a paper napkin from the dispenser, dabbed her hand with it, and continued eating with her bare hands.

"Something wrong, Brittany?" asked Will. "Why aren't you eating?"

Brittany shook her head. "Nothing," she smiled and looked at Emma. "You're eating with your hands. You used to use a knife and fork for everything. You didn't clean the table with your antiseptic spray even though I know you have it in your bag— you just used that one napkin," she looked at Santana for confirmation and Santana smiled a see-I-told-you.

"I've been getting better," Emma smiled at the girls. "You've been away a long time, so it might need some getting used to," she chuckled.

"She's been a fighter these past few years," Will looked at Emma with adoration in his eyes.

"All of you helped me," Emma blushed. "I wouldn't have made it if it weren't for your patience."

Brittany sighed. A part of her was happy for Emma, the other was breaking for herself. "Wish I were here the whole time," she said quietly, but still holding a smile on her face.

Santana felt her pocket buzzed and reached for her phone with her clean hand. She pressed a few buttons to open the text message she just got and immediately frowned reading it.

"What is it, Santana?" Will asked.

"Huh?" Santana looked up from her phone. "Oh… nothing. It's just Quinn, asking about some Cheerios stuff. You know how Sue is."

Will sighed. "Sue really needs to lighten up a little and just be…"

"Less evil?" Santana made a joke (but let's be real, she was deflecting) and Will laughed.

"Yeah," said Will, still chuckling. "Less evil will do."

oOoOo

The girls plopped down in their respective beds, stomachs too full of food. They just got home and Santana had shown Brittany the text she got during dinner on the way to the house. Now that they were in the safety of their own room, Santana flipped open her phone again and reread the message out loud. "San, Britt, we need to talk. 7AM at the gym before Cheerios. Q & Cedes," she looked at the other girl as she read the text.

"What do you think they want?"

"I don't know, Britt," Santana closed her phone and plugged it into the charger. "It doesn't sound good, though."


	28. Stories

_**A/N:**__ I sure took my sweet ass time with this one, didn't I? Sorry. Got extremely busy with work and I had to get away for a few days from my computer. Also, I apologize in advance for the quality of this chapter because I got so distracted while I was writing it._

_Someone asked me my tumblr a long time ago and I contemplated whether or not I should reveal myself. and the answer is yes. flyingmonkeysaside. hit me up if you wanna chat. I don't post/reblog things that often, but Asks get sent to my email so I definitely will read them (and hopefully reply)._

_Those of you whose PMs I haven't had the chance to read, I'm sorry! Tonight you'll all get your replies! _

_**• MissAB:**__ Bisa dong ;) Also, n'ah i don't think we know each other. then again, who knows x)_

_Here's the new chapter. Enjoy!_

* * *

><p>The girls asked Will and Puck for a ride that morning instead of Emma. The red-haired woman was opposed to the idea at first, saying there was no need for them to be leaving that early, but as soon as Santana mentioned something about meeting Quinn for a Cheerios emergency, Emma had to say yes. Having a confrontation with Sue was just something she wasn't willing to do that day. But the woman really didn't like feeling left out. Being a ginger had made her feel that way all through her childhood and having OCD had doubled, maybe tripled, the discrimination.<p>

At 6:30 AM, the whole house ended up going to school in the same car. Emma, Santana and Brittany sat in the backseat, shoulder to shoulder and elbow to elbow. Santana knew that Brittany would've felt trapped in that car with being cramped on both sides in such a small space, and once again, she put the blonde girl first, even though sitting in the middle meant she had to feel nauseous from the lack of room or air.

When they both finally arrived at the gym Quinn and Mercedes were already there, standing on the other side of the room. They looked like they were having a serious conversation. Quinn was shaking her head over something Mercedes had just said, while the other girl repeatedly ran her fingers through her weave— it was a sign that she was either upset, or nervous about something.

Brittany and Santana had to walk more than 20 paces to get to where Quinn and Mercedes were standing and with each step they took, Santana could feel her chest tightened. She could recognize that look on Quinn's face from a mile away. Something was really wrong.

"Q, Wheezy," Santana greeted them simply. "What did you want to talk about?"

The other two girls in the room shot each other glances and finally Mercedes opened her mouth. "First of all," she said, holding up a finger. "We need to get something straight. We're here as your friends."

"Whatever we have to say... or _show_ you, actually," Quinn continued for her and Santana couldn't remember when Mercedes and the Cheerios captain became so buddy-buddy, "please know that we're doing it because we love you and we care about you."

Santana looked at Brittany and the blue-eyed girl looked back with the same amount of confusion in her face.

"I feel like we're on trial or something," mumbled Brittany and Santana couldn't agree more.

"Seriously, guys. What's this about?

Again, Quinn and Mercedes shot each other a look. It seemed like they were talking, without saying even a word, about who should start speaking.

"You know we go to the same church," Quinn looked at Santana, then Brittany. They nodded as they had just found out about it the day before at the ice cream parlor.

"Yesterday, we had a guest priest," Mercedes continued and as soon as she mentioned that the priest was from Tennessee, Brittany's breath hitched.

Quinn swung her backpack to her front, pulled out a piece of paper and handed it to Santana who started to unfold the creases slowly.

It was like being hit by a truck, seeing a black and white picture of a face she knew so well— the face of the girl who was standing right next to her. Santana could hear a crashing sound when she read the word on top of the page: 'Missing'. In big, bold capitals letters.

"He handed everyone that flyer," Quinn explained. She looked at Brittany, whose face just went one shade paler as she stretched her neck to see what was in the paper that Santana was holding. "Why does it say you're missing?"

"Didn't you tell us your parents had some sort of emergency, Britt? Why did you lie to us?" Mercedes took a step forward too fast, too harsh and to sudden that she startled the blue-eyed girl.

It was hard for her to not feel threatened by Mercedes, and Brittany unconsciously took a step back. She could feel her whole body tense.

Santana reached for Brittany's hand and when the blonde grasped hers like she depended her life on it, Santana could sense her trembling.

Santana warned the girls in front of her. "Back the fuck off," she growled. Like hell she was going to let them break Brittany down. She didn't even care that none of the two actually knew what was going on, she'd break someone's arm if she had to.

Brittany squeezed Santana's hand, seeking comfort while reminding Santana that it was their friends that she was talking to. "Please don't come any closer," she pleaded, her eyes downcast to the floor. She would've looked Mercedes and Quinn in the eyes to show how much she needed them to keep their space, but she was too busy wishing the shakes to stay away.

Her wish was no use, though. They were slowly making their way up her arms and legs. She couldn't tell what was worse— the shakes themselves, or the way they made her grip on Santana's hand weaken. It was as if she was drifting off to a stormy sea and Santana was her anchor.

Lucky for Brittany, her anchor was a strong one, made out of iron and promises to never let her drift away.

Santana, feeling Brittany's hold loosen, quickly guided her towards the bleachers behind them— a move that made the head cheerleader yelped in protest. "Where are you going?" Quinn called, left unsatisfied with the unfinished conversation.

"For fuck's sake, _please_, give us a minute, Q!" Santana looked over her shoulder and hissed with all the venom she had in her heart. Quinn, no matter how close they had become, needed to be put in her place and that place was nowhere near Brittany right now.

"San…" Brittany felt around with her hands, trying to clutch onto Santana's Cheerios top. Her eyes were shut close so hard that she had wrinkles all around them.

"I'm here, Brittany," said Santana softly. She reached for Brittany's moving hands and held them in her own. "I'm not letting go."

It was funny, Quinn thought, that the most closed off person that she had ever met, sometimes also the most indifferent, could turn completely around for another person. She had never seen this Santana before except for that brief half minute when Santana had to calm down a sobbing Brittany— and even that was cut short because Brittany fell unconscious.

She wasn't used to it. She wasn't used to Santana being so gentle to anyone. Every single day, she was the only one who could see through Santana's hard shell. But_ this _Santana was so vulnerable to her eyes, and yet so strong— and it was all for Brittany.

And she hated it somehow, even though she knew Brittany needed support for a reason— one that she hadn't been let in on yet.

Quinn shifted her weight from one foot to another and crossed her arms. Somewhere deep in her heart she was jealous that the only person she could call a best friend had never shown her _that_ amount of care.

"It's okay," Mercedes whispered.

"What?" Quinn's eyebrows furrowed as she whispered back.

"You knew as well as I did that she was her best friend first. She'll always be," Mercedes spoke again and the blonde with hazel eyes didn't say anything. She couldn't. What Mercedes said was true. She was the one who chose to build that friendship with Santana and along the way, she had accepted that she could never recreate what Santana and Brittany had.

Well, at least she thought she'd accepted it.

"It's not you, Quinn," Mercedes put a hand on the other girl's shoulder and gave her a tight-lipped smile. "It's just that… it's Brittany," she shrugged. To her, there needn't be any more explanation. She had witnessed a lot of similar situations with one supporting the other without a care for any limits— even though she didn't think she'd ever seen a moment quite like this one.

But she knew.

She knew that if either herself or Quinn tried to argue with Santana right then and moved even just an inch, somebody's arm was going to get broken. It had always been that way. Anything for Brittany, and anything for Santana.

There was a long pause after that. Mercedes let her words hang in the air, watching Quinn's face went from a mix of sadness and disappointment to understanding to, finally, resignation as they kept their feet nailed to their position, and eyes on the duo sitting on the bleachers. Santana was blocking their view of Brittany, but it was obvious that whatever the blonde was experiencing, Santana wasn't going to let go of her hands.

"Let's just wait," she whispered to Quinn and she received a quiet nod for an answer.

oOoOo

"How is she? Is she okay?" Mercedes asked Santana.

Santana looked over her shoulder with concern. The latina had left Brittany alone to recompose herself on the bench. She had to pass on a message from the blonde girl for the other two girls. "Not right now," she answered honestly before turning her head around again. "But I'm gonna make sure that she will be."

"Look," Santana started to speak again. Mercedes and Quinn were definitely her least favorite people for triggering Brittany whether they realized it or not, but Brittany insisted that she was going to be fine and it wasn't any of the girls' fault that she had once again fallen to pieces. So even though Santana could really use the opportunity to go all Lima Heights right now, she clenched her fists tightly because she didn't want to say something she'd regret to her other friends. She had promised Brittany to be the strong one, and she wasn't going to fail.

"I didn't mean to snap. It's just that… life has been really hard on Brittany lately, and she needed you to give her space. I just couldn't stand how…" Santana cut her speech short, closing her eyes as she shook her head. "Nevermind. Brittany wanted me to tell you that you're gonna get your questions answered. But we can't talk here," her eyes darted to the newly arrived junior Cheerios eyeing them from across the room. "So, either we bail practice, Quinn, and we go someplace else, or we can do this another time. Both of you have to be there because I don't want her to go through it twice."

It was like fate that Sue, in one of her signature tracksuits, just happened to walk in right at that moment. Quinn really didn't have to think twice about Santana's proposition and having Sue there was super convenient. She was already running towards their Coach not a second later.

oOoOo

Brittany took a deep breath. It was the first time she had ever stepped into an office that wasn't Emma's and she was so relieved that the walls were made of regular white plasterboards instead of large glass windows. She looked around the room and decided to sit on Sue's large chair, just because it was behind a desk and she felt she would be safer there.

Quinn, obviously used to the room, grabbed 2 chairs from behind the treadmill for Mercedes and herself.

Brittany wondered for a second why Quinn didn't get one for Santana, but then she realized that Santana was already standing right by her chair, like a guard dog ready to pounce if anything went wrong. Something tugged her heartstrings because it was clear that Quinn knew Santana as much as she did.

It broke her heart a little bit.

Quinn was given a key to Sue's office by the coach herself. Which was funny to Brittany, because the scary lady— the same scary lady who yelled at her in the dance room— seemed to have changed personalities into a much nicer one. Their eyes met briefly when Santana was pulling her out of the gym and Sue gave her a look that almost looked like… a promise that everything was going to be better? Brittany didn't even know if that made sense. Why would Sue even look at her like that?

A few more deep breaths were taken by everyone in the room and Santana knew she just had to get it over with. "Okay, listen up," Santana took a step forward that her legs were pressing against the wooden desk. She crossed her arms and looked pointedly at Mercedes and Quinn. "I'mma lay down some ground rules for you two. If _any_ of you tried so much as pressuring Brittany to say more than what she's willing to share, just remember that I'm not afraid to cut a bitch. Got that?

If this were any other moment, and if Quinn didn't see the level of seriousness in Santana's eyes, she would've dedicated an eye roll and a smirk for Santana. But it wasn't, and it really didn't seem like a good moment to make a joke out of her friend. "Alright," she nodded, and Mercedes did the same.

Satisfied with their answer, Santana turned around and with a tone that was much softer than what she had just used for her other two friends, she gave the go ahead for Brittany to start. "The floor's all yours, Britt," she told her before she assumed her previous position.

"I don't know where to start," Brittany fiddled with her fingers.

Quinn bit her bottom lip. She had a suggestion, but she really didn't want to cross Santana. "Um... what if we start from the flyer? Like, why does it say you're a missing person?" she carefully proposed.

Brittany swallowed the bile that was rising up in her throat. "Because It's true," she said, letting out a big huff of air looking at her fidgeting hands. If she hadn't been biting her nails down to nothing, she would've done it right there. All those years living with Doug, she had to channel her nerves somehow, right?

"I lied. My _parents_," she used her fingers to make big quotation marks in the air, "aren't away in some other state for an emergency. They don't even know I'm here. I ran away. The flyer's probably my stepdad's doing."

"Your stepdad?" Mercedes furrowed her eyebrows. She tried to recall bits and pieces of memories. "That's Mr. Geoffrey, right? Doug Geoffrey?"

"Yeah," Brittany nodded. "That's his name."

To anybody else, it would've sounded like Brittany was only answering a simple question. She was a bit of a pro when it came to acting everything was fine every time a person of importance, like a teacher, the principal, and/or one of Doug's colleagues asked about the man. Unless they were looking for a specific emotion on her face, they wouldn't see how the twinkle in her eyes faded out the second his name was mentioned.

But at that moment, in that room, neither Quinn nor Mercedes missed the way Brittany winced at the mention of his name.

"Who is this Geoffrey guy?" Quinn asked, her eyes went from Brittany, to Santana (whose jaw was tightened like she was deliberately trying to destroy her teeth) and finally to Mercedes, who was sitting next to her. "Why do you all know him?"

"He was this guy who basically used to run our old school, and this one too. I remember him donating a lot of money to the school's clubs and coming to football games. He used to give a lot of speeches at the school's events. " Mercedes shrugged. "It was before you moved here so that's why you don't know him, Quinn."

Quinn made small nods. "Sounds like a nice man."

Santana couldn't hide her scoff. 'Nice' wasn't exactly a word she would've associated with Doug Geoffrey.

The girl sitting behind Sue's desk cleared her throat. "Yeah," she tried to speak clearly, but all she got out was a shaky voice. "He was the reason why I moved away."

"Because he got a job there?" asked Mercedes. "You've already told us that."

Brittany shook her head. "No, that wasn't the real reason. I found out later that it was because he was trying to get me as far away from Santana."

Hearing her friend's explanation, Mercedes started to acknowledge memories tucked in the innermost corners of her brain. She started to remember things like a sleepover with Brittany that never happened, just to find out that Nancy had begged her mom to hide the fact that Brittany was spending her nights at the Schuesters.

"From Santana?" Quinn pointed at the girl and furrowed her eyebrows. "But you guys were— I mean, you guys _are_ best friends. Why would he do that?"

"Because I could see through him, that's why," Santana spoke through her gritted teeth. She put aside an appreciation for Quinn's correction for later. "Because I knew he was nothing but a scum."

Mercedes narrowed her eyes. "What do you mean?" she asked.

There was a long pause after that question and Quinn and Mercedes shared glances as Brittany and Santana prepared themselves for what was to come. Both of them looked terrified of what was coming. Brittany had started to visibly regulate her breathing by taking a few extra deep breaths while Santana, still standing a step behind her best friend, had her eyes set on Brittany as if something, or someone, would take her away the second she blinked.

Brittany cleared her throat. "My _dad_, Doug Geoffrey, he wasn't a nice man," she looked at Mercedes to confirm that what Santana had just said wasn't wrong. "He... abused me. He used to hit me."

Mercedes put a hand over her mouth and made a cross over her heart with the other. "Lord Jesus Almighty," she gasped.

"That's why you ran away?" Quinn looked at Brittany to settle her assumption.

Brittany shook her head and landed her gaze to the trophy case. Spilling her guts to Santana was one thing. Telling Quinn and Mercedes, while Santana had told her that she had done nothing wrong to be afraid of, was another.

"That's not all," she croaked and take a deep breath.

Santana took one too and it didn't take long for Quinn and Mercedes to figure out that _that_ was just a tip of an ugly iceberg.

"Herapedme," Brittany breathed out in one quick sentence.

Quinn and Mercedes couldn't believe what they had just heard. Brittany was raped? What? But why? When? Again, what?

Brittany went on with her story, repeating the things that she had told Santana before, omitting the most private things. Not because she didn't think Mercedes and Quinn wasn't worth her trust, nor was it because she thought they couldn't stomach the whole thing.

The truth is, _she_ was the one who couldn't handle it.

Quinn and Mercedes could feel their eyes turn into both finally cried out loud when Brittany finally told them the whole truth, not with dry eyes herself, that it happened almost every day for more than 4 years. Santana, at this point, could feel that she wasn't going to succeed keeping herself together any longer. She promised to be strong, she repeated in her mind, and kept wiping the corners of her eyes with her thumbs. But when she accidentally locked eyes with Quinn's teary ones for the briefest of moments, she finally let herself have the luxury to cry with the rest of them.

"Oh my God," said Quinn in between her sobs. She had always thought hearing things like these on the news was hard enough. But right now, hearing it straight from someone sitting in front of her? It was definitely a struggle for her head to wrap around Brittany's admission. There were no words that could describe how much her heart ached for her. Brittany was just a girl like herself. One of them was older from the other, but not by much— a few months away at most. They weren't close or anything, but even if it didn't happen to Brittany— if it had happened to _anybody_ else— how was she supposed to feel?

"I'm so sorry, Brittany. I'm so sorry," she said, biting her bottom lip to make herself stop crying.

Mercedes, whose condition was no better than Quinn's, wiped her puffy eyes and cheeks before she spoke. "Does it have something to do with, uh, earlier?" she sniffled. "When you told us to step back?"

Brittany nodded. "I'm sorry. You just moved to fast and my body was telling me you were a threat—"

"But it's just me," Mercedes protested a little too loud and Santana whipped her head to look at the girl. Even with red-rimmed eyes and tear-stained cheeks Santana was still scary.

"I know," Brittany sighed. "I know it's just you. My brain knows it, my heart knows it. But I can't control it, I'm sorry. I knew you weren't going to hit me or anything... It's just," Brittany looked at Santana, "reflex."

_Reflex._

What an ugly word.

Its existence is only there to point and laugh at how your body is programmed to react to things around you— not even giving you a chance to fight back. And now Brittany had to apologize for something she had no control of.

What an ugly word. And what a strong one.

"Does it happen a lot?"

"Maybe," Brittany huffed a long stream of exhale to calm herself down. "I don't really know. San?"

"It comes and goes," Santana told her truthfully. "But it's been getting better. She couldn't even give Puck a hug that night."

"That night?" asked Quinn. "What night?"

"That night when I bailed on that party? When you were on the phone with me?" Santana checked if her friend remembered. "It was Brittany who rang the bell."

Quinn made small nods with her head. Things were starting to click in her head. Santana's surprised gasp she had heard over the phone, the loud thud (which she now assumed as Brittany collapsing onto Santana) and Santana's panicked voice as she frantically called for Puck's help.

Mercedes grabbed a box of tissue from Sue's desk, pulled one out and passed it around the room. "How did you get here?" she dabbed around her eyes.

"I took a bunch of bus rides. I looked up the route on the internet and I had it memorized," Brittany told her.

"What about Nancy? Does she know about it?"

"That he beat me up or, um, _the other thing?_"

Mercedes winced at how direct the question was. "I guess... both?"

"The hitting part actually started around a year after the first time he, uh, came into my room," Brittany used the tissue in her hands to wipe the leftover tears threatening to pour out of her eyes. "I was so afraid to tell her because I actually believed him when he told me she would be mad if she found out— that she would kick me out of the house. But she found out eventually."

"She didn't do anything?" asked Quinn.

"She would try," said Brittany. "Sometimes she'd get him extra angry— she'd exhaust him from beating her up so he won't have the energy to come get me, but he's a big man. He's too strong for her."

"Where's she now?"

"Somewhere," Brittany shrugged. "She went away at the beginning of the year."

"She left you?!" Mercedes' eyes widened but she tried to keep her voice down. She couldn't believe Nancy would leave her friend just like that in the hands of an evil man. "Britt, how could she do that?!"

Hearing Mercedes' reaction, Santana thanked God that she wasn't in the _Seriously, Nancy? Club_ alone. Ever since Brittany told her that Nancy actually left her alone with that creep, she hadn't been able to forgive the woman. No matter how badly hurt she was, if she loved Brittany at all, Nancy should've taken Brittany with her. Santana couldn't even begin to imagine what Brittany must had felt, to be promised something that Nancy couldn't keep— that she would come back for her. It was all too familiar to Santana.

Santana wondered a lot about it. Did Brittany use to look out her window every night, waiting for her_ mother_ to come back like she promised? Did she use to stand there in the school's parking lot with her hopes up thinking every day that, _"today," _Nancy would pick her up, only to be whisked away by one of Doug's personal drivers back to a house that was just another version of hell?

Standing just half a step behind the chair, Santana could see the top of Brittany's head and once again took note at how _dim_ Brittany's light was. She didn't think she'd ever get used to it. She was glad that Brittany couldn't see her from where she was sitting because Santana was sure Brittany would've seen how she was cracking into teeny tiny pieces. And that would've shown how weak she really was when she had promised Brittany to be the strong one.

"You didn't see how bad she was hurt that day, Mercedes," Brittany tried to explain and calm her friend down. "I think between her and me, we're both like cats with 9 lives," she cringed and tried to joke, but none of the other girls laughed. They knew it was part of the truth. God knows how many times Brittany almost died.

oOoOo

"So," Santana hung her backpack on the back of her chair. "What do you wanna do now? Wanna look for a book?"

Sue only gave them permission to use her office up until the first period was over. While Mercedes and Quinn had Biology to share, Santana had nothing of importance. She had Spanish with Will but she had always have the upper hand for that particular subject.

She had never taken advantage of being Will's secret Spanish tutor at home, but today seemed like the perfect opportunity to do it. She asked Will (politely, of course) if she could be excused from the lesson to get Brittany home safely and the man didn't object. He did, however, point out that she had been missing too many Mondays already and that the other teachers might not be as lenient as he was being.

Santana hated to admit it, but Will was right. Plus, Santana had a Cheerios gathering after school and she didn't think Sue would allow her to miss it after being excused from the practice this morning. So, after talking it out with Brittany (and promising her a pint of Strawberry Cheesecake ice cream), they decided to spend the second period in the library instead. After that, Brittany would go back to spending the day being a fish in Emma's aquarium and then head back home with the redhead.

"I don't know," Brittany shrugged. "Can we, like, talk or something? So it won't be quiet?"

Santana looked around the empty room. There were nobody there, of course. Everybody was busy falling asleep in their classes, or maybe passing notes right about now. The old librarian had fallen asleep in her seat. Her neck was resting in an angle right on top of the chair and her mouth was wide open. If Puck were there he would've flicked tiny paper balls into the poor woman's mouth.

Anyway. Talk. Santana couldn't see why not.

"Okay," Santana smiled. "How are you feeling? You know... after telling Quinn and Mercedes?"

"I'm feeling..." Brittany looked up, as if the answer was lying there up in the sky. "I don't know. I feel the same? Nothing's changed."

"You don't feel... lighter... somehow?"

"Do you?" Brittany asked back. "When you talk to your tree?"

"Touche," Santana smiled weakly. She wished she could say the otherwise, but she had learned over the years that talking about her problems to a tree only made her think more about them. Sure, it felt nice to just let things out once in a while, but a tree couldn't offer her solutions. It was like a placebo. It was fine if she was there only to spill things, but all those days, months, years when she needed to find a certain friend? What good talking to a tree did her?

That didn't mean she was going to stop visiting her tree anytime soon, though.

"Your coach is kinda nice," Brittany rested her elbow on the desk and used her hand to prop her head.

Santana scoffed. "Yeah, when she's not busy being a she-devil intent on killing us all with lap runs."

Brittany chuckled. "She can't be that bad. I mean, I thought she was really scary at first but this morning I changed my mind."

"Oh?"

"She reminds me of you," Brittany smiled her lips teasingly.

"Excuse me?" Santana frowned in disgust. "Oh, hell no you did not just say that, B! We look nothing alike! And I'm definitely hotter."

Brittany laughed and Santana could feel her heart swell. Brittany laughing was always a good thing. Now that it had become a thing of rarity, she cherished it more than ever.

"I didn't say you look alike, Santana," Brittany shook her head and continued with her chuckles. "I don't know. It's just there in your eyes."

"Our eyes?" the darker girl cocked an eyebrow. "I'm seriously not following."

"I mean... you know how don't always say what you mean?" Brittany asked and Santana reluctantly nodded, acknowledging her walls. "Well, they're always there in your eyes— what you're feeling. It's the same with Sue. She didn't say anything to me, but her eyes were kind to me this morning. It was like..." Brittany looked up to the ceiling as it she'd find the answer there,"it was like she was telling me everything was going to be okay. Even though I don't know why she would do that. She doesn't even know what happened."

oOoOo

"You told Sue, didn't you?"

"Yep," said Santana with a popping sound at the end of her answer. Quinn found out about the pint of ice cream that Santana had promised Brittany and she offered her a ride to the ice cream parlor after that little Cheerios gathering that Sue had summoned. She told Santana that she, too, needed the comfort of ice cream after learning about Brittany's story, but in reality, Quinn just wanted to be there for Santana right now. She knew, that in a true and typical Santana fashion, the darker girl was hiding the fact that she was probably dying inside.

"Does Brittany know about it?" she asked again.

Santana sighed. Her eyes stayed on the road. "Not yet."

Quinn checked the mirrors and made a left turn. There weren't a lot of cars in the parking lot and she could've parked anywhere, but she chose to wait for the car that was going out of a spot that was right in front of the entrance. She looked to the passenger side and was mildly amused at the fact that she wasn't getting any mockery for it.

The Normal Santana would've given her hell for being a lazy ass.

"Are you gonna tell her?"

Santana looked at her friend. "Maybe. I don't know how yet. I don't know how she'd react to it," she answered truthfully. She turned to her friend. "I think I messed up with this one."

The blonde girl made a few nods with her head. She understood— kind of. On one hand she could understand why Brittany didn't want to tell anybody— or at least not yet. But on the other, Santana's intention was clear, and to be honest, she was siding with the darker girl on this one. Doug must be punished and the only way to do it is by starting a dialog with people who had power, and/or had enough connections that could get the man on trial.

"You did it because you love her, Santana," Quinn said from the driver's seat. "You probably could've done it differently, but if she's gonna be angry, I have no doubt she'll forgive you in no time. Don't beat yourself up about it."

Santana gave her friend a small smile before she slowly got out of the car. She really hoped that was the case— that Brittany would be able to forgive her once she told her the truth. But that was a thought for another time. There was something else that she needed to figure out.

"Something else is bothering you," Quinn stated easily. They had been friends for years now, it was fairly easy to read each other's faces like they were books. Of course, most of the time they were mystery novels.

"Let me guess," Santana rolled her eyes. "You can see it in my eyes?"

Quinn didn't say anything, but her cocked eyebrow told Santana that she was amused, and confused at the same time.

"Nevermind. Just something Britt told me," Santana explained.

The boy behind the ice cream counter took their order and, in less than 30 seconds, came back with a pint of Strawberry Cheesecake ice cream for Santana, and a popsicle for Quinn.

With their orders in their hands, they walked back to Quinn's car. Santana used the silence to convince herself that it was okay to talk to Quinn about something she couldn't shake out of her head since that morning. "That flyer, Quinn... That means half the town already know that Brittany's wanted."

"I guess so..."

"Does anyone else from our school go to your church?"

"None that I can think of, but even if there was someone, I'm pretty sure the flyer's gonna go around the whole town eventually. Maybe it _is_ as we speak," Quinn said honestly. Sugarcoating the obvious wouldn't have made anything better anyway.

"Fuck," Santana cursed under her breath and closed her eyes for a brief second. "What if it's really from Doug? I mean, what are the odds that those flyers get to this town? I have to do something."

"Like what?"

"I don't know..." Santana sighed with a shaky voice. "Run away with B? Set him on fire the second we see him— if we ever do? Whatever it takes to keep that creep away from her."

Quinn grabbed Santana's shoulder with and gave it a squeeze. "I'll pay for the gas," she said with a wink.

"Thanks," Santana chuckled at the joke and for a moment she stopped torturing herself with her thoughts. Quinn was an amazing friend. She felt kind of bad to have been treating her like she didn't exist lately. "I'll probably even let you light him up."

"N'ah," Quinn said. "I think Brittany should have the honor."

"Oh, defi—"

"Santana?" a hand tapped her on the shoulder and cut her off.

"—nitely," Santana scrunched her face and looked at Quinn before she made a pivot on one foot. When she was finally face to face with the person, Santana's eyes widened. The person might've cut and had their hair recolored, but Santana Lopez did not forget a face.

"What are you doing here?" she hissed.

The day had just grown longer.


	29. Balloons

You'd assume that she loved them, but Brittany didn't like balloons. Especially the ones with helium in it— the ones that float up in the air.

She had loved them as a little girl, sure— what kid didn't like balloons, anyway?— but she stopped liking them sometime during her years as Doug Geoffrey's daughter. At first she didn't quite know why. It wasn't like she was physically hurt by a balloon or something. Yes, they pop loudly and she would probably flinch to the loud noise _now_, but that was never why she hated them.

Once, she thought that it was because they could float and fly free. That she was jealous of them. But then she wondered why she didn't dislike birds. Weren't they the ones with wings? Weren't they the ones who could control whether they stay on the ground or glide freely in the sky?

Then she thought maybe it was because they were colorful. Red, yellow, green, purple and every other color imaginable. But then, she never disliked rainbows for having so many colors at once. In fact, rainbows were still one of her favorite things.

So that couldn't be it.

Brittany opened the curtains to let the sunlight into her and Santana's room. The other girl was already in the shower, getting ready for school, so she wasn't worried that the brightness would hurt Santana's sleepy eyes. _Nobody_ would ever want to hurt Santana's sleepy eyes because she'd hurt you back.

Except if you were Brittany, of course.

A bird flew by the branches outside the window and Brittany watched it glide gracefully. She remembered countless mornings watching similar scenery from her room back in Johnson City.

Right after Nancy left, she was left alone replaying the night of the woman's departure in her head, over and over again. _"I'll come back for you, Brittany," _ Nancy had promised, and Brittany had faith that she would.

For days, weeks and even months, Brittany would sit close to her locked windows and look through them every time she heard a car approaching. She'd watch the car come closer and closer with anticipation. She'd wish and wish and wish. Her heartbeat would go fast— so fast that when that car pulls up to the gates, her heart would feel like it was ready to explode.

_"Maybe it's Nancy,"_ she hoped every day.

But of course, it was never her.

Why _would _it be?

oOoOo

"Have you heard from your parents, Britt?" Will asked the girl sitting across the dining table. For once, they were all seated together to have breakfast. Neither Puck nor Santana had practice that morning, so Emma cooked a storm. It wasn't often that they could all be in the same room for breakfast.

Emma woke up extra early that morning. She made pancakes, eggs, french toast and even squeezed a bunch of oranges for the family.

Brittany looked up to meet Will's eyes. "No, sorry," she shook her head and lowered it again. Her right hand moved around the food on her plate with a fork.

"Not at all?" Emma wiped her mouth with a napkin. "Wow, it must be some emergency they're attending. It's been more than 2 weeks and you still haven't heard a thing. I hope they're alright."

"Yeah," Brittany made little nods. "Me too."

"Is there anyone you want to call, honey?" Emma asked, concerned at how passive Brittany was acting. "You know, just to check on them? You must be worried. You can use the phone."

"Not really, no," Brittany shook her head again. It must had seemed weird to Will and Emma that she was being so casual about not knowing the state of her parents after 2 weeks of no news. But even if she had said yes, Brittany wouldn't know who to call. Probably Todd, the guy who used to tutor him before they moved to Johnson City— but it wasn't like she knew where he was and how to contact him. Doug really kept a tight lid around their lives. He never even talked about his side of the family, much less Nancy's.

"Well," said Will, trying to ease the growing awkwardness. He picked up a bag that had been sitting right next to his chair and handed it to Brittany with a smile. "Here. Maybe you'd want to call them later."

Brittany accepted the bag with a confused look on her face. She set it on her lap and looked inside. Santana leaned over to Brittany as she pulled out the content.

It was a brand new cell phone and it matched Santana's. Only Santana's was red and Brittany's new one was white.

"Yesterday, Rod Remington, that TV anchor Sue works with," Will looked around the room to check if they all knew who Rod was. He got nods for response and continued, "visit the school and he told us _horrible_ stories about missing teenagers," Will explained.

Brittany shared a look with Santana, who had just stopped chewing because of what Will was saying. The timing was too eerie.

"Emma and I would be devastated if anything ever happened to you, Brittany. And I'm not just saying this because we were handed the responsibility."

Emma nodded with agreement and continued for her husband. "We know your parents would've probably given you an iPhone, or something equally fancy. But, as you know, we're not... _financially_ capable. So... I mean," she cleared her throat, being slightly embarrassed. "It's not much, but it's enough to make phone calls and texts."

"But," Brittany looked at the box in her hands, then looked up again at Emma and Will. "You didn't have to do that. I'll be fine without it. You should use the money for something more important."

Will laughed. "Brittany, let's get something straight her. _You_ are important to us. We may not be your real _or _legal parents, but you're always going to be a part of this family."

"In case you haven't noticed," Emma clasped her hands on the table. "We love you."

Brittany's gaze bounced from Emma, to Will, to Puck, to her new phone, and lastly to Santana with an unbelieving look on her face. There were tears pooling on the corners of her eyes. She's important to them. She's _important._

Brittany gave the box to Santana to hold and got up on her feet. She walked over to the other side of the table and hugged the adults from behind. It was the first time Will ever got a hug from the blonde girl.

"Thank you," Brittany whispered to his shoulder and when he ruffled the back of her hair, she didn't flinch. Santana was_ that_ close to saying "aw," out loud, but she saved herself by shoving a piece of a pancake into her mouth.

Will was so happy about that hug, he couldn't hide his feelings. Even after Brittany got back to his seat, he was still smiling. His smile was so big, Brittany thought he could swallow a whole chicken just like a python she once saw on TV.

"The Coach has been really strict these days," Puck told everyone when Will asked about the team. "Ever since Azimio passed out on the field, she's been pushing healthy food on us."

"I didn't know he passed out," Santana stated. She didn't really care about Azimio— that boy was too rude, too stupid even for a jock. She was sure that she wouldn't even bother to learn his name if she weren't a part of the squad that cheered for the football team. "When was this? At practice?"

"Sometime last week. You Cheerios weren't at the field. I think Sue had you practice in the gym," Puck scooped into his cereak. "He passed out because he had too much soda at lunch."

"I don't get it. He passed out because he had too much soda?"

"Well no," PuckHe had too much soda, too many burritos and too much mac 'n cheese at lunch. Coach made us run laps and he barfed before he passed out. I could still see the salsa," Puck smirked.

"Ew," Brittany made a face to that mental image. Even Lord Tubbington who was perched comfortably on her lap did.

Santana shook her head and threw him a pillow. "Seriously, Puckerman. You're such a boy sometimes!"

Puck ducked just in time before the pillow hit him on the face and laughed. "I'm just telling it as it is!"

Will laughed along and sipped on his coffee. "Are you ready for the big game this Friday, Puck?" he asked.

"Oh yeah, I'm flipping ready!" Puck answered excitedly. "What about you? Glee Club ready?"

Will's face lit up the second he heard his club being mentioned. "Oh my God, it's going to be _phenomenal_," he said, looking at Santana who nodded with a smug smile on her face.

Santana had to admit that she, too, was excitedly looking forward to the performance. For once, Will did good and decided that they were going to do a classic Michael Jackson song instead of one of his easy-listening numbers. Mercedes and a boy named Artie were the leads, and between the two of them and the magical dance moves of Mike Chang, she knew they were going to kill that performance.

She listened as Will rambled on and on about the rehearsals. About how they got help from the drama department for costumes and make up. About how they were going to crush the Cheerios in terms of performance.

Santana shot him a glare for that comment and he ran two of his fingers on the inside seam of his collar like the room just got really hot.

"I can't wait to see it," Brittany beamed, half wishing she could join the performance.

"Me too," Emma chimed in, pouring orange juice into her tall glass. "You're still coming with us, right, Sweetie?"

"Mm-hmm," Brittany nodded. "I think I'm just gonna come to school that day so you won't have to go back to the house to pick me up."

"Awesome," Puck smiled to Brittany. "You're gonna see me kick some serious ass!"

"Puck," Will shot him a warning look for using an inappropriate word.

"Fine, fine," the boy rolled her eyes. "You're gonna see me kick some serious tush?"

Will almost choked on his coffee from laughter. "Tush?"

"Hey you said I can't say ass so I don't say ass. Except I just said ass three times just now," Puck grinned.

Will chuckled and shook his head. Santana was right. Puck could be _such_ a boy sometimes.

Brittany looked across the table. Emma was watching them laugh with a sweet smile on her face and a cup of tea in her hand. Sometimes Brittany wished the observation that Santana made a few years back wasn't true. Sometimes she wished Will would spend a little bit more time listening to his wife talking about her day.

"Did you have a good day yesterday?" a voice came from her right and Brittany was impressed and creeped out at the same time. It was as if Santana was in her head— though she really shouldn't be surprised about it anymore. They had been reading each other's minds since the moment they met.

Emma gave Santana a smile and answered. "It was good," she recalled. "Nothing serious happened at school. Nobody reported Jacob— not even once!"

"That's... really comforting, actually," Santana tilted her head.

"Exactly!" Emma made a face and Brittany chuckled. "After that I went home and started dinner... I had a chat with Mrs. Goulat while I was waiting for the lasagna."

"Is Mrs. Goulat the lady who lives across the street?" Brittany looked over her shoulder to her left and Santana nodded.

"Yup," Santana said. "That's the one."

"She's still there? She used to sit all day long on her porch," Brittany remembered, scratching Lord Tubbington's neck that the cat started purring. "And she'd call us to come closer and give us little stories about all the other neighbors."

"Yeah, like when she told us about Mr. Fredrickson's 6th toe," Santana scrunched her face. "I definitely didn't need to know that."

"Is she still the neighborhood's gossip?" asked Brittany.

She kind of liked Mrs. Goulat's stories. Not because she liked to gossip like the old lady, but because it was fun to imagine the faces of the people in her stories. As 11-year-old girls who had just moved into the neighborhood, neither her nor Santana knew much about those folks.

In her mind, Mr. Fredrickson still had yellow eyeballs and a tail.

"Sometimes I feel bad for the woman. She has no relatives... or at least none that makes the time to visit her. I can't think of a time since she retired from the Post Office when she had a visitor," Emma smiled sadly, looking at the carpet. She realized a long time ago that she didn't want to end like Mrs. Goulat. And it was what drove her into getting professional help for her OCD. She didn't want to end up alone.

"But anyway," Emma continued, her tone turned serious. "She said she's been seeing strangers in the neighborhood lately."

Will put down his coffee cup. "Strangers?"

"Mm-hmm. She said it was a different man every time, but they all wear the same thing. Black suit, black cap, and she mentioned something about a device they're wearing on their ear."

"You mean... like an ear piece?" asked Puck. He was intrigued.

"Maybe," Emma shrugged. "I'm not sure. She made it sound like they were secret agents. Spies. She said they'd park their cars near the playground and walk around the neighborhood like they were looking for someone."

"Woah," Puck's eyes widened. "Cool."

"That's... actually pretty creepy too," Will chimed in. "She's never seen them before?"

"Uh-uh," Emma shook her head. "Not even from when she was still working at the post office. Which must mean something because Mrs. Goulat literally knows everyone."

Will looked at the teenagers in the room. "I want you to be safe at all times, okay? Use your phones. Call me, or Emma, _whenever_ you need to. We don't know who those men are, but there are a lot of bad people out there and I really don't want anything to ever happen to you. Including you, Brittany."

Puck, Santana and Brittany looked at each other and Will could see the uncertainty in the girls' faces. Almost as if they understood the fear more than he did. But Puck... even though it was faint, he had a smirk forming on his lips.

"I mean it," he said, pointedly looking at Puck. "I know you're probably thinking that you're safe, that you're not afraid of anything. That's okay, I get it. You think you're tough and it's a fact that you can defend yourself. But don't take this lightly, okay? Think about it. What if one of us gets in trouble? What if it's me, or Emma? Or worst, Santana or Brittany?"

There was a realization that flicked a switch inside his brain and Puck looked up to meet the girls eyes. Brittany watched Puck's face expression changed with Will's last remark. His eyes narrowed and his jaw tightened with determination.

In a softer voice than before, Will continued. "You can't keep this family safe if you can't keep yourself safe."

"Yes, Sir," said Puck in a firm voice. The family would be kept safe.

Breakfast ended not long after that. Puck and Will, as usual, left in the same car. Not because Will's beat up car couldn't fit 5 people at once, because they already knew it could— although not comfortably. But driving to school together was like a ritual to them, some sort of a bonding thing between the two. It was the closest thing they had to a father-son relationship and they weren't going to give it up anytime soon.

Besides, the girls took a lot more time to get ready.

It didn't use to be like this. Before, Puck would actually take up more time than Santana getting his hair ready. But now, the amount of time Santana spent in the bathroom blow-drying her hair doubled his. Puck just didn't get why she would go through the hassle of making her hair look beautiful just to tie it up into a ponytail. And don't get him started with the amount of minutes she spent wearing her make up.

Once they were ready, they grabbed their belongings and went downstairs. Emma was already outside, by her car in the driveway, talking to some guy dressed in a Hawaiian shirt that, Santana thought, looked like it was made by a drunk blind person. Santana actually put her sunglasses on to shield her eyes from the horrible sight.

When the girls arrived at the car, Emma excused the three of them without introducing Brittany and Santana to the man. After what Mrs. Goulat had told her, she didn't feel like exposing them, even if it was just letting people know their names. The man didn't seem to mind though. He kept his smile intact and waved until the car turned on the first right.

"Who was that?" Brittany asked.

"Oh, just someone visiting his parents. He was complimenting our garden. He said he could already tell our roses would grow beautifully this year."

"Oh," Brittany mouthed. A pause. "Is he gonna be around long?" she asked again.

"I'm not sure," Emma looked at her through the mirror. "He said if everything goes well, he's going to be out of Lima after Friday's game. He said he's meeting someone there."

"Oh," Brittany said again. "Okay."

Santana looked over her shoulder from the front seat and took off her sunglasses. "B?" she scrunched her eyebrows. "What's wrong?"

"Nothing, I just... I think I've seen him before."

oOoOo

_"What are you doing here?" Santana asked the woman. She had asked Quinn to wait in the car for her and walked over to a corner close to the ice cream shop, just to make sure Nancy and herself were under a light source. If anything should happen to any of them, Quinn should be able to see it and call 911._

_"Where's Brittany?" Nancy asked._

_Santana crossed her arms and stated the obvious. "She's not here."_

_"Santana," Nancy looked at the girl almost pleadingly. "It's important that I talk to Brittany."_

_"Why?" Santana held her chin high and spoke through gritted teeth. "You left her there with that... with that monster."_

_Nancy looked down to her feet and fiddled with her fingers. "I'm sorry. I had to get out of there."_

_"You had to?" Santana scoffed unbelievingly. She didn't even bother to try and speak without a cracked voice. "How could you do that to her? She's only a girl! She's only a girl and she had nobody else! You could've protected her!"_

_"I tried," Nancy pleaded. "Really, I tried. But he was a strong man. He almost killed me."_

_Still with her hands balled into fists, Santana opened her mouth. "If you, a woman three times our age, almost got killed by your own husband, what did you think would happen to Brittany, huh? You almost died, but so did she!"_

_"I would've come back for her!"_

_"But did you?!" Santana uncrossed her arms and balled her fists. Her whole face was red with anger._

_"I..." Nancy stammered. "I put her on the pill—"_

_"You put her on the pill!" Santana laughed out loud and bitterly. "Well, isn't that just convenient? To have a box of tablets to do your work for you and then leave?"_

_Nancy took a deep breath. "Please, Santana, listen to me. If not for me, then for Brittany."_

_Santana scoffed, shook her head and turned around on her heels. She had nothing left to say to Nancy even though in her heart of hearts she knew Nancy was deathly terrified of Doug. But that didn't justify her leaving her stepdaughter alone with a man whom she knew was beating her, raping her._

_"He's coming after her," Nancy shouted as Santana was halfway towards Quinn's car and the young girl stopped in her tracks. "He's a powerful man," Nancy added. "He has a lot of people working for him; even if they're working for him blindly."_

_Santana turned around again and faced Nancy. "Why should I believe you? As far as I know, this could be one of his traps. Maybe _you're_ the one working for him."_

_"Please Santana," Nancy turned her head towards a car that had just parked a few feet away and put on her sunglasses. It was ridiculous, Santana thought, because it was almost dark. "If you care about Brittany that much, you have to trust me on this."_

_A car door was slammed and it distracted Santana enough to make her look over her shoulder for a second or two._

_When she turned around again, Nancy was already gone._

oOoOo

It was almost noon and Brittany still couldn't shake the stranger's face out of her head. She was certain she knew him from somewhere, but she couldn't remember.

"Hello there, Blondie," a voice snapped Brittany out of her daze. Sue appeared out of nowhere and now she was standing in front of her. Not too close though. A comfortable distance, and Brittany was grateful for it.

"Um," the girl looked around her. "Are you talking to me?"

Sue smiled that gentle smile she reserved only for extra special occasions. "Yes, Brittany, I'm talking to you."

"How do you know my name?"

"Like I've told you before, I know everything that goes on in this school. Especially when they concern my Number One and Two."

"Oh," Brittany _d'uh_-ed herself in her mind. "Right. Quinn and Santana."

"That's right. Barbie and Longoria," said Sue. She eyed Brittany up and down, noticing that the girl wasn't as puffy as when she had 'met' her the first time. Brittany had been wearing less layers of clothing now. Her bruises were still there, but they were getting better and didn't hurt as much when people accidentally bumped into her. She didn't need the buffer. Plus it was nearing summer, so the weather had been growing hotter every day.

"Why are you out here alone, Brittany?" the woman asked. "Aren't you supposed to be in Bambi's office reading one of her ridiculous pamphlets? That woman has one for everything, it's a wonder why she doesn't have one that says "So You Have an Unhealthy Relationship with Your Sweater Vests" on her desk."

"No, that one she keeps at home," Brittany said with a straight face and Sue raised an eyebrow, amused at Brittany's blatant admission.

The older woman looked straight into Brittany's eyes, and when she couldn't find a trace of lie in them, she smirked. One of these days she had to send Emma a gift basket for actually having that pamphlet.

Maybe a basket of canned squirrel meat or something.

"You still haven't answered my question, Blondie," Sue pointed out.

"Oh. Um, I got bored, so I went to the restroom. But I didn't want to go back yet... so I just walked around."

"I see," Sue nodded her head slowly. "Well, the bell's going to ring soon and the hallways are going to be packed with the students. Why don't you come to my office instead and avoid being trampled?"

Brittany narrowed her eyes at Sue. There it was again. A smile that said everything was going to be alright.

Brittany accepted the offer and they wordlessly walked to Sue's office. The ruthless coach closed the door after they were both in it.

"I'd offer you a very delectable glass of Sue's Master Cleanse, but you don't look like you need it. So here," Sue opened her mini fridge and reached inside. "Have a Nesquik. I keep them around for Becky, but she has classes until later. Don't tell her I gave you that," she winked.

"Thank you," Brittany took the bottle. She didn't know any Beckys, but whoever that girl was, she must've been very dear to Sue's heart that she kept a dozen of strawberry milk for her in the office.

"You live with the Schuesters at the moment, right?" Sue asked after letting Brittany enjoy her beverage for a few moments. She was back to sitting behind the desk, on the closest thing to a throne that a national champion cheerleading coach could buy, a leather swivel chair that Brittany had the chance to sat on just a day earlier.

Brittany answered with a nod.

"As you might've heard from either Q or Santana, or the man himself, I don't like Will Schuester. So I need to make sure," Sue rested her hands on the desk and leaned over. "Are they treating you right?"

"Yes," Brittany nodded again. "I love them."

"Good," Sue smiled genuinely. "And what about your parents?"

"My parents are dead. They died in a fire about 5 years ago," answered Brittany.

Sue gave the girl a small smile. "I'm sorry to hear that, Brittany."

"It's okay," Brittany shrugged. "It's been a long time."

"What about your legal parents, Mr. and Mrs. Geoffrey? How are they treating you?"

Brittany took the straw out of her mouth. "How did you know—"

"He used to be everybody's boss around here, and I believe the Middle School next door as well," Sue clasped her fingers together. "How are they?"

"I... They're..." Brittany stammered. She swallowed her nerves. "I don't know. There was an emergency and they had to travel."

"Okay," said Sue. "But you haven't answered my first question."

"Why does it matter to you?"

Sue took a deep breath and leaned back on her chair. "Because, Brittany," a pause. "Do you remember what you said to me in the dance room?— and by the way I apologize for startling you that day."

Brittany shook her head slowly. "No."

"You said, 'please don't hit me'," Sue explained. "Now, if the Schuesters have been treating you well— and I believed you when you said you love them— and your only friends are the girls who emptied out my Kleenex yesterday— which means they were crying— that only leaves me with unpleasant thoughts in my mind," she said in a calm voice. "That, and the faint, but still visible to my Navy SEAL-trained eyes, bruises on your arm."

Brittany looked down to where Sue had jerked her chin and gasped. She forgot to roll her sleeves back down after washing her hands.

She quickly crossed her arms, hiding what was left of the marks on her wrists.

"Did someone hurt you, Brittany?" Sue asked and before Brittany could answer, she spoke again. "Before you say no, please think it through. I can help you. I have powerful friends— friends that can help you."

Brittany shifted in her seat uncomfortably.

"I know it's hard, but if your father abused you, you need to come forward. No man should ever walk free after violating his own daughter."

The blonde girl kept her eyes downcast and her mouth shut. A part of her couldn't handle telling anybody else so soon, especially someone who works with Will and Emma and had a good chance of telling them what was really going on. But the other part of her wanted to just come out with it to Sue, just like what she did with Quinn and Mercedes. She knew Sue wasn't lying. She was a powerful woman and she really did have powerful friends.

After a while of silence, Sue sighed. "Fine, if you're not going to talk, at least let me look at the bruises on your back."

Brittany's head snapped up. "How did you know about them?! Nobody's ever seen them except..." she didn't continue. She already knew the answer.

Brittany abruptly got up from her chair and headed to the door. She needed to find Santana. She needed to find Santana and demand the truth.

As her hand turned the knob, Sue called her name. "I know you're angry," the woman said. "But really think about why she did it before you give her a good kick to the shin."

There was a few seconds of agony after that and Brittany let her hand lingered on the door knob before she finally opened the door.

"I need to go," Brittany breathed out, and she left Sue alone in her office to regret her mistake.

When Brittany came back to Emma's office (she didn't really have anywhere else to go), she didn't even give the woman the joy of small talks. She plopped herself down on the chair and loudly rummaged through her bag for Will's iPod. She put on her headphones to let Emma know that she wasn't interested in conversations. She felt bad about it, but she'd rather ignore Emma than wrongly yell at her for a matter that only involved herself and Santana.

How could Santana do that to her? How could she just give out her secret just like that, to someone that she didn't even know? She trusted Santana with all she had and she betrayed her?

She was just like Nancy.

oOoOo

The thing about balloons— the helium-filled ones— is that they float. They float and float and float... until they popped with a big bang, leaving irreparable pieces.

Just like Brittany's hopes.

Just like Brittany's heart.


	30. Friday

_**A/N:** Hey everyone :) In case you're interested, I posted a new story called **"Where Have You Been?"** as an apology for making this one so damn sad and depressing, and for making some of you cry like a little whale (NYABG where you at? lol)_

_To new followers, welcome! Hope you like (or dislike, actually) this story and bawl your eyes out._

_**To tufluvaltlikmean,** thanks for giving this story a try! Totally understandable you don't wanna continue reading before it's completed lol. And thanks for reading the other story too! _

_Sooo... here it is, the next depressing installment of the story. Enjoy!_

_P.S. It's not my best. sorry._

* * *

><p>Game day.<p>

Puck couldn't be more ecstatic. He was already up since 4 that morning, totally hyped up about how he was going to crush the other team. He had been training like a maniac for weeks for this game and, from what Coach Beiste had hinted, there was going to be a scout somewhere in the audience. He knew just had to work extra hard tonight.

He texted Santana at 5 AM, asking if she wanted to run around the block with him and she replied with a simple, "I'll be down in 5."

Not a lot of people knew this, but their relationship was pretty strong. They both look out for each other, even from a distance. But to the outside world, to their friends (barring Quinn and Brittany), they were just two kids living together under the same roof because of unfortunate circumstances.

Understandable, really. At school, their interactions were minimal. If one wasn't a part of the football team and the other wasn't in the cheerleading squad, they probably wouldn't even be interacting at all. But even though they started with the wrong feet, they had come to realize that they basically wouldn't survive without each other. Living as foster children was never easy— even if your foster parents were as great as Will and Emma. Sometimes it could get hard, seeing your friends parents come to an event and all you had were just "parents" who were basically legally bound to take care of you. Sure, the Schuesters genuinely loved all their kids. But there were days when Puck and Santana couldn't help but feel insecure.

"You better bring it tonight for making me run with you this early, Puckerman," Santana said as she put on her running shoes.

"Don't worry about it," Puck smirked. He was standing in front of her with one hand on the doorknob. He had opened the door to let the cool air in— and to rush Santana so she'd move faster. "So ready to make a touchdown tonight."

"Just one?" Santana stood up. Her running shoes were tied, her hair was in a bun, her phone and ID are in her gray hoodie pockets. She was ready. "Lame," she winked as she walked past Puck to the porch.

It was a great time to be jogging. There weren't that many people outside. Probably just three-four people drove by them in their cars on their way to work. Mrs. Goulat was already sitting on her porch and when she gave the kids a "good morning," Santana gave her a small smile in return.

"What's up with you and Brittany?" asked Puck. He had noticed a change in the girls' dynamics in the last 2 days and, as a _brother_, he just couldn't let it slide.

"I don't know," Santana ran beside him. "She's been distant since Wednesday. Every time I start a conversation, she just... walks away."

"Did you ask?"

"I did."

Puck scrunched his eyebrows. "And?"

Santana let herself run for a few more feet before answering. "She said she was fine and there was nothing wrong."

"Do you believe her?"

"Hell no," Santana scoffed. "I'm the queen of _'everything's fine and nothing's wrong'._"

"Ha. That you are," said Puck, huffing and puffing through his mouth. The best thing about running with Santana, was that she could keep up with him— sometimes even out running him. Though, he couldn't say he was surprised. Coach Sylvester made sure her Cheerios were as fit as bulls and and kept their staminas in check.

"I'm just worried she knows something we don't," Santana confided.

"Like?"

"I don't know," Santana huffed. She wished she knew the answer, though. "Something."

"Maybe it's about what Emma said. You know, Mrs. Goulat's story?"

"Maybe," Santana nodded. "Though I really hope if Britt knows something more about _that_ she'd tell us."

"Yeah," agreed Puck. "I don't want a repeat of that night."

They made a turn around the block and Santana saw a figure in the distance that made her stop without warning.

"Puck," she called to the boy who didn't pay enough attention to her stopping.

Puck stopped and turned around. "What?"

"That car," Santana pointed a finger at a car that was parked near the playground. "Look at the plate."

Puck looked over his shoulder and spotted the car that Santana was pointing at. It was a black town car with a plate that read: MRGFRY1.

"M-R-G-F-R-Y-one," spelled Puck. "Mr. Geoffrey One? Do you think it's his car?"

Santana pulled her hood up to cover her head and started walking cautiously towards the black Lincoln. Puck followed, also with his hood covering his head.

When they got to about 10 feet behind the car, they could see a shadow on the back seat. The figure was leaning his head against the window, and when that person moved to sit up straight, Santana and Puck stopped in their tracks— afraid that they were found out.

They stayed frozen in their position until the person inside the car stretched their arms and leaned their head back against the window.

Santana and Puck watched in silence of a few seconds.

"I think they're sleeping," Puck whispered and Santana nodded, agreeing to his deduction.

They moved again. This time they run a little, pretending nothing was happening and that they were just regular joggers in the neighborhood.

They both passed the car on its left side, risking glances into the car. Santana took note at the neatly stacked clothing in the back seat. All black, including the cap that was on top of the stack.

They didn't stop running, but the person in the driver's seat didn't see them passing by. They were right, that person was sleeping. And as if on cue, the second Puck and Santana passed the driver's seat, the blanket that was covering the man who was sitting on it slipped down and revealed the hideous Hawaiian shirt that Santana, Brittany and Emma saw couple of days before.

Puck and Santana ran as fast as they could once there was an adequate space between themselves and the car, and they finally stopped when they were once again in their block.

"That's him!" Santana panted. One hand resting on a tree. "That's the guy I told you about. He was the one talking to Emma the other day."

"Fucking hell," Puck rested his hands on his waist, trying to catch his breath too.

"And I'm willing to bet that he's one of the guys Mrs. Goulat was telling Emma. Did you see the clothes on the backseat?"

Puck nodded. "Yeah, I did."

"He said he was visiting," recalled Santana. " But he's gotta be lying 'cause he wouldn't be sleeping in his car."

"So Nancy was right," Puck met Santana's eyes. "Doug's coming for her."

Santana nodded. "Remember what that guy told Emma? He said he's gonna be gone after the game's over."

Puck's jaw tightened once he understood what Santana was trying to say. "They're doing it tonight."

oOoOo

It was so hard for her to not yell at Santana for telling Sue without her consent, but Brittany had decided against it. At least, for now. She knew that the argument would end with at least one of them crying for days (though she was determined to not be the one shedding the tears) and Will and Emma would try to weasel their way in and be the mediator to solve the problem. And she couldn't have that happen, because Puck, Will and Santana were all involved in the big game that night and she wasn't going to selfishly ruin _everyone's _night.

In all honesty, though, Sue's last words to her had made her think a lot about the matter. About why Santana had done what she did. And she guessed it was part of the reason why she should just be happy with giving Santana the almost-silent treatment— acting like it was okay, but completely shutting her off at the same time. She knew it was torturing Santana inside, and she thought it was a good enough punishment. At least for now.

"Hey, B," Santana greeted her as she entered the room. She was still panting from her run and there was a sheen of sweat coating her face and hair. "How was your sleep?"

"Okay," Brittany shrugged.

Santana walked over to the closet and in between her steps she spoke up again. She needed to tell Brittany about the man in the car. "Britt, there wa—"

Her speech was cut by the blonde girl getting up from the bed, heading to the door.

_Take that, Santana._

oOoOo

"I just don't get it," Santana whined. She had a free period with Mercedes and she just had to vent to someone about how Brittany had been treating her these past couple of days. And since Quinn had to run around with Sue to make sure they were going to have a spectacular show that night, she settled with the next best thing.

"Maybe this is just one of those different personalities you told us before." Mercedes whispered back.

"No," Santana shook her head. "This is Brittany. The real one. I can tell the difference."

"Well... maybe you did something?" Mercedes offered.

"I don't think I did," Santana used a hand to support her head. "I've been trying to figure out if I had done something wrong but nada. At least, not something I did in front of her."

"Hmm," Mercedes tapped a finger to her chin. "I wonder if it had something to do with Coach Sylvester."

Santana whipped her head and looked at the other girl. "Sue? Why?"

"The other day I saw her coming out of the Coach's office. I was on my way to the bathroom, and I was gonna say hi. But Brittany looked like she was about to maul anybody who'd come near her... so I didn't."

Santana didn't even give Mercedes a warning before she leaped from her seat and ran to Emma's office— where Brittany was spending her day working on a coloring book that she bought specifically to pass the time. Santana had figured it out. Sue must've had said something to Brittany and that was what caused the sudden riff between them.

"Hi Emma," Santana greeted the woman politely. Brittany shot her a look when she heard her voice, but she got back to her coloring book almost immediately and it deflated Santana.

"Hey Santana," Emma answered just as sweetly. "Aren't you supposed to be in the class?"

"Free period," replied Santana. "Do you mind if I borrowed Brittany?"

Emma looked at Brittany, who was showing no interest at all in paying attention to Santana. _This is really weird_, she thought. She had been thinking that way for a couple of days now. So maybe it was best that she approved Santana's request.

"Of course," Emma smiled at the young girl before looking at the blonde who was sitting on the other side of the desk. "Brittany? Are you going with Santana or do you want to stay here? I can go."

Brittany, not wanting to strip Emma off her comfort zone, reluctantly packed up her things and got up. "I'll see you later," she told Emma before going out the room with Santana. The woman gave them a short wave in return.

Whatever it was the girls were going through, she hoped it would be resolved soon.

The girls went around the school aimlessly, Brittany walking behind Santana reluctantly. The truth was, Santana didn't even know where they could go to talk. She knew it wasn't going to be easy. Some yelling might even occur and she had a feeling she wouldn't be the one doing the yelling.

"Do you even know where we're going?" Brittany stopped behind her. When Santana turned around, Brittany had her weight on one leg and had her arms crossed, burning holes in her with her glare. She was chewing a gum with her mouth open— clearly not amused with her best friend at the moment.

"I, uh," Santana stammered. She quickly looked around and, exhaled in relief when she realized that the choir room was only a few feet away. It was always empty at this time of day, so she walked over and jiggled the handle. "Here," she said, opening the door for Brittany.

Brittany rolled her eyes, but she walked into the room nonetheless and sat herself in one of the chairs.

"This is where we have our Glee club meetings," Santana explained, closing the door behind her.

"Okay," Brittany replied shortly. She observed the room taking mental photographs of the piano, the trophy case, and even of the scribbled word on the whiteboard. It was Will's handwriting and it said, "DECEPTION". It was an assignment that Will had given to the club members— to come up with a song that was about betrayal and heartaches.

Brittany scoffed. _How appropriate._

Santana followed Brittany's line of sight and saw the word. She recognized an annoyed look on Brittany's face and instantly felt uneasy.

"Brittany," she looked down to her fingers and fiddled with them. It was a nervous habit she had had since she was a little girl. "I'm sorry," she said quietly, but this time she managed to look straight into Brittany's eyes to prove that she really meant it.

The blonde girl wasn't interested. "What for?" With her eyes still looking at everything in the room but Santana, she blew a bubble and popped it again.

Santana took a deep breath and prepared herself. Brittany was doing it on purpose— waiting for her to admit her deceit.

_Well, _thought Santana, _it's now or never._

"I know you know," Santana sighed. "I know you talked to Sue."

"Oh, you do?" asked Brittany daringly. "Tell me about it then."

Santana gulped, intimidated by Brittany's challenge. She was purposely making it hard for her. "I... I don't _really_ know what she's told you, but I know you know I told her about your... situation."

"She knows about my bruises," Brittany crossed her legs, eyes never faltering from Santana's. "How?"

"_Ishodpchurs_," Santana mumbled.

"You showed her pictures?" as Brittany as she narrowed her eyes and Santana confirmed her guess with a couple of nods.

"I took them when I was changing your clothes that night."

Brittany took a deep breath. She was trying so hard to stay calm. She wanted to hear everything Santana had to say before... well, before whatever it was she was going to do. She hadn't decided yet.

"Did you show them to her before or after I told you not to tell anybody?"

Santana took a few seconds before she finally said: "After."

Brittany scoffed. She stood up from the chair and put her hands on her waist. "Out of everyone in this whole world, Santana, you're the last person I expected to lie to me like this. You showed her pictures without my permission. You _took_ my pictures without my permission either," said Brittany, making a list of things that Santana had done behind her back.

"Do you have _any _idea how angry I am at you right now?" asked Brittany when the only response she got from Santana was just another nod.

"Brittany," Santana pleaded with a shaky voice.

"I'm not finished." Brittany cut her off. "Do you have any idea how _hurt_ I am right now? To know that the only person I _thought _I could ever trust my life with actually did the one thing I told her not to? Do you?"

"No, you don't understand, B," Santana wiped her eyes with the back of her hand. She was cursing herself on the back of her mind for finally breaking down. But Brittany had just told her that she was _hurting_ her without yelling at her like she had expected. The even tone in Brittany's voice oddly affected her more that she could feel herself drowning in guilt— even when she had managed to convince herself that telling Sue was the right thing to do.

"I don't understand?" Brittany kept her tone low even though she could feel herself break at the sight of Santana crying. "This is _my_ life and you're saying I don't understand— how stupid do you think I am?"

"No, I didn't mean it like that," Santana's shoulder started to shake with every shaky breath she was letting in and out. "Try to see it my way, B. You showed up without warning and fell unconscious—"

"Oh, so it's my fault now?" Brittany cut her off.

"— and you had bruises all over you," Santana continued ignoring Brittany's comeback. She tried her best to stop her crying but failed miserably. All she wanted to do was let out all those pent up emotions inside. As it turned out, she wasn't as strong as she wanted to be and she kind of didn't care anymore that she was breaking a promise to Brittany— that she was going the strong one for as long as Brittany wanted. "I want him to be caught so bad, Brittany. For being an evil man. For doing what he did to you. And Sue's the only person I know who could make it happen."

"That doesn't make it okay, Santana. I trusted you," Brittany told her. "And you walked _all over_ that trust."

Santana shook her head. "I know I should've have gone behind your back, but you know what Nancy told me. He's coming after you. I'm begging you, B. Try to see it through my eyes. You don't know how I felt that night," sobbed Santana, her eyes red and her cheeks puffy. She wiped her eyes again. "I was helpless. You were so badly hurt and I didn't know why. I could only sit there looking at your wounds, replaying the night when you were taken away over and over again. I couldn't do anything then, but I _have_ to do something _now._"

Brittany opened her mouth and closed it again. Santana was hiccuping so bad trying to put an end to her sobbing that Brittany decided to give her a moment.

"And this is gonna sound so fucking selfish, but I was scared. That night when you woke up thinking he was about to hurt you again, I just..." sobbed Santana. "There was nothing I could do to make it better and it scared me so bad, Brittany. And I'm sorry."

As it turned out, Brittany couldn't stand seeing Santana cry. She looked so... helpless. Like that day when she thought she had lost Brittany after she told her mean things. "Santana—"

"I'm so, _so _sorry," Santana cut her off and put a hand over her heart. "I'm not that strong. I wish I was and I wish I could keep all my promises, but I'm not... and I can't."

Brittany felt a pang in her heart._ That_ had hurt.

That had hurt because she didn't think the tables would turn like that. She could see now how she had been selfishly putting a lot of weight on Santana's shoulder. Whatever pain that she was feeling, Brittany was inflicting it to her best friend every single day, every single hour, minute and second ever since she came back that night. It was unfair to Santana.

Brittany stood in her place, keeping her hands lined up with the seams of her pants. A part of her understood that Santana had done it out of love and she couldn't even describe how hard it was to not hold Santana in her arms as she cried, but the other part wasn't ready to forgive the girl for the betrayal.

"I need to go," Brittany walked to the door and tried to ignore her friend as her sobs got louder. She took one last glance at Santana who was now devastated, sitting on the floor, wiping her tears with her forearms.

Brittany couldn't do it. She couldn't just leave Santana there thinking that Brittany didn't want to have anything to do with her anymore. Because that was totally the opposite of the truth. She may had walked into the room close to feeling that way, but now... that feeling had disappeared completely.

"I'll see you at the game," said Brittany, looking over her shoulder before she got out of the room. Santana didn't see it on her face, but there was a faint smile heard through the blonde's voice and it was enough to make Santana think that maybe, just maybe, there was hope.

oOoOo

School couldn't have lasted longer that day. Everyone just couldn't wait until it was game time to cheer from the bleachers for The McKinley Titans. It was the last game before the summer break and the whole school was decorated with posters and banners wishing their football heroes the best of lucks. The air was filled with the promise of winning and it was a beautiful day to breathe.

To some people, however, it was a harder wait than the rest.

Santana, for example, had a lot of trouble thinking about anything but Brittany. Several things about Brittany, actually. Aside from how damaged their relationship was at the moment, she was also thinking about the man that she and Puck saw that morning.

What was his plan? When was he going to strike? Was he alone, and how was he going to do anything?

She spent her time in her classes not listening to any of her teachers. Instead, she listed all of Doug's possible scenarios in a loose leaf of paper. But there were too many of them and she started to feel like she was making a list of all the ways the world could end.

Though both lists would probably have the same things anyway.

Santana got too engrossed in her thoughts that she completely zoned out when Sue held one last Cheerios gathering an hour and a half before the game started. All she heard was _"blah, blah, blah pompoms, human cannons, fire shooting bikinis, blah, blah, blah."_ It wasn't until Sue pulled her aside that she snapped out of her haze.

"What's wrong, Longoria? You look like a plate of huevos rancheros that's been thrown to a clown's face at a fair."

Santana scrunched her face at the absurdity of the comment but replied nonetheless. "You didn't tell me she knew."

"Ah," Sue gave her a sad smile. "I forgot to tell you that. I apologize," she put a hand on Santana's shoulder. "Is that why you look like a kicked puppy?"

Santana shook her head. Then she nodded. She figured she should just be honest with Sue. It wouldn't have made sense to lie to her now. The woman already knew more than enough anyway. "Kind of. But that's not all," said Santana. "He's coming for her and he's coming for her tonight."

Sue looked up at something in the distance— even though there was _nothing_ in the distance. It was a method she used to disguise her nerves. "And you know this how?" she asked.

"Someone told me," Santana told her, not wanting to reveal Nancy's identity. "And I saw something this morning that further proved my the suspicion."

Sue nodded. "Does Brittany know about this? Does anybody else?"

Santana sighed. "Brittany doesn't know. I didn't get a chance to tell her yet. The only one who knows it is Puck," Santana put her hands into her jacket pockets. "And you."

"I see," Sue once again set her sights at nothing in the distance. She was genuinely worried for these young girls. Her job required her to be tough, but in all honesty, she had always thought of herself as their protector as well as educator. "You have a copy of the locker room keys, correct?"

Santana nodded.

"I want you to keep them with you all the time. I don't care if you're cheering, or singing a crappy tune with your little Glee club— you keep them in your pocket at. all. time," the woman pointed a finger at Santana's pockets. "Got that?"

"Yes, ma'am," Santana nodded again. There were wrinkles on her forehead because she didn't understand the relevance between Brittany's situation and the keys because, if Doug's men wanted to bring down the Cheerios' locker room doors, they'd have no trouble doing it even when they're locked. "But... why?"

"You'll figure it out," Sue reassured the confused girl with a squeeze on her shoulder. "In the meantime, I want you to tell Q about this, because a) you need to vent, and b) I know you have a lot on your mind right now and you're probably having difficulties coming up with an emergency plan. I have no doubt Quinn can help you when— _if _her help is needed. Now go find her and get ready to cheer. And wash your face because I can't stand your red eyes," Sue smiled softly and there it was— Santana could see it now— the kindness that Brittany saw.

"Yes, Coach," replied Santana with a tight-lipped smile that replaced a million hugs that she wanted to give her Coach. "Thank you."

oOoOo

Like she had promised Emma, Brittany stayed at McKinley all day that day. She stayed in the woman's office, helping out with certain tasks like stacking pamphlets, separating documents into different folders and making copies. Emma had been _so _wonderful to her— from letting her freeload to never pushing her to talk more than she wanted to— and Brittany needed to repay her in some way. She would've done more for Emma if she could, but without financial resources to support her at the moment, relieving Emma from half of her office work had to suffice for now.

They sat with Will and watched the Glee club as they rehearsed their performance in the auditorium and Brittany was impressed. _Very_ impressed. Will had mentioned about them doing a Michael Jackson song, but she had no idea they were going to so a mashup of _Come Together_ and _Wanna Be Startin' Somethin'_.

It was pretty much incredible.

The choreography was astounding. There was a boy (Emma told her Brittany name was Mike Chang) who did pop & lock like he was born with a million bones in his body. His moves were amazing and there was a small chunk in the performance where he got to show them off. It made Brittany miss dancing, and it also made her wonder if the adult Changs were actually robots, because come on... their son couldn't be human.

Mercedes and Artie, the boy in the wheelchair, were the lead vocals and Brittany could swear their voices were made for each other. She almost wished they'd get married and have babies just so that they could have a whole family of singers like in that movie Santana told her about a long time ago— The Sound of Music.

Speaking of Santana, Brittany didn't see her on stage but she could hear her vocal runs in the minus one track they were using to rehearse. Emma seemed to noticed the confusion in Brittany's face so she explained to her that Quinn and Santana were in charge for the Cheerios' performance too that night— they were probably busy practicing their routine in the gym.

Will told her that he wasn't worried. Santana and Quinn were really good performers and they had nailed the both the song and the dance down to perfection.

Brittany could feel her heart swell for the compliment even though it wasn't directed at her— even when she was still somewhat on the fence about her and Santana's current situation.

Around an hour later, Emma and Brittany were seated at the bleachers, wearing finger foams that said "Go Titans!", waving them up in the air. There weren't that many people yet, only a few teachers and several couple of eager parents. But Brittany could see the cars filling up the parking lot from where she was sitting and she had to admit, she was kind of excited about this game— about everybody seeing how awesome of a linebacker her brother was. Any uncomfortable thoughts of being squished in a crowd were pushed aside.

It wasn't long until the seats around them got crowded. Once in a while someone would come up to Emma and tell her how their children had changed for the better because of her guidance and Emma would blush, politely telling them it was their children who did all the work.

Brittany loved it. She loved how humble Emma was. She loved seeing how _important_ Emma was to other people other than the family. But most importantly, she loved how things had come full circle for the woman. Once needing guidance— now giving guidance.

"Hey, Emma?" Brittany called and the woman turned her head to look at her.

"Yes, Brittany?" smiled Emma.

Brittany leaned forward and give the redhead a hug. Emma, after being completely taken aback by the hug, smiled in confusion as Brittany pulled away.

"What was that for?" the woman asked.

"Because you're awesome," Brittany smiled back. "And I wanna say thank you, for everything."

"Aww," a shade of pink started to spread through Emma's face and she pulled Brittany into a side hug. "You're welcome, sweetie."

"Well, well, well. Would you look at that," a stranger's voice interrupted their moment and Brittany looked up to see who owned it. It was the man she saw talking to Emma the other day. "What's a sweet sight."

"Oh, hello," Emma greeted the man politely. "Are you here to watch your nephew play?"

"I am," the man nodded. "Well, hope to see y'all later," he tugged the bill of his baseball cap. "May the best team win, right?"

Emma nodded excitedly and gave him a smile. "May the best team win."

The man took one glance at Brittany before he walked away to sit a couple of rows behind them and Brittany could feel his stare burning a hole on the back of her head.

oOoOo

Puck wasn't lying when he said he was gonna bring his "A" Game. He scored a touch down for the Titans 4 minutes into the second quarter and by half time, it was 8 to 0 with McKinley supporters going crazy, cheering for their athletes.

As always, he dedicated his touch down to his family and this time, since Santana and Will were still somewhere warming up for the Glee club performance, he pointed his fingers to where Emma and Brittany were sitting. The crowd went wild for him with their foam fingers, air horns and yells, and Brittany couldn't be more grateful for the pair of headphones she was wearing— yet another reason to not hate Santana because she was the one who made Brittany carry them around in her bag every day.

A few minutes after the players cleared the field, the Glee club took over. They settled into their positions, going the spotlight to Mercedes and Artie as the MVPs of the performance. Brittany, even though her view was blocked by a couple of giant foam fingers (and even though she was still somewhat mad at her), couldn't help but spot Santana in the middle of the formation. She'd recognize her anywhere.

When the intro started playing through the speakers, the audience roared. As Brittany had suspected when she was watching them rehearse, the performance was a hit. A lot of people in the audience even stood up to sing and dance along to their song and she was one of them.

Brittany looked to her left and laughed. Emma was enjoying her night as much as she was enjoying hers. The woman was on her feet, swaying along to the song, making whooping noises and waving fist pumps with the rest of the crowd. Once in a while she'd go, "look at Santana!" or wave at Will who was watching his club with the Titans on the benches. She was really proud and it was really adorable.

"I need to go to the bathroom," said Brittany after the performance was over. It was just announced that there was a 10-minute break before the Cheerios was going to lead into the second half of the game.

"Oh. Well, do you want me to come with?"

Brittany thought about Emma's offer for a second before she said no. "If you leave with me, we won't get our seats back," she reasoned and smiled. "I know my way. It's okay."

It _almost _got a little overwhelming for her, pushing through what seemed to be a million people as she walked to the bathroom, but she made it anyway.

Well, at least up to about 10 feet from it.

There was a really long line in front of the nearest bathroom when she got there and Brittany sighed. She should've known it would happen. After all, half the town was there at McKinley. Maybe even more.

She stood in that line for about 5 minutes before she got out of it. She actually considered going back to her seat so she could watch the Cheerios tearing up the field. But she still really needed to go, and if she didn't find another bathroom, she was going to wet her pants.

She sprinted her way to the one next to the teachers' lounge in record-breaking time.

oOoOo

"You know," Susan, one of the 4 flyers in the Cheerios, walked towards Quinn and handed her a bottle of Gatorade. "That was an awesome performance."

"We totally kicked ass," Quinn agreed.

"And I totally nailed that jump at the end," said Susan with a smug face. "If it weren't for me, we wouldn't have had that kind of applause from the crowd at the end."

"You turned half a second too fast," said Santana. She was walking next to Quinn and, as second in command, she felt like she needed to bring Susan's ego back down to earth for a bit. The last thing she wanted was a snob in the team who couldn't appreciate teamwork. "You better not do that again because I don't want Sarah and Nicky's to get hurt because you couldn't keep your timing. I mean, I'm sure Quinn would have no problem demoting you to becoming a base," she looked at her blonde friend. "Right, Captain?"

Susan gulped and looked at Quinn who was watching the conversation silently.

"That's right," Quinn nodded. She bit her cheek to keep her from smirking. Santana had a reputation among the Cheerios of being the bitchier half of them two, but sometimes their teammates overlooked the fact that she always had something constructive to say. "But good job, everybody," she looked around the Cheerios circle that had formed around her. "Let's just hang back and enjoy the game!"

The circle dispersed. Some of them stood by the Titans, holding their pompoms in their hands on the side of the field to cheer. Some others, like Santana and Quinn, chose to sit on a bench next to the football equipment to rest up for a bit after that complicated, risky routine.

"Have you seen her after this morning at all?" Quinn chewed an ice chip she found in her glass.

"Nope," Santana redid her high pony and wore her jacket. It was getting chilly, especially because she was sweating now. "I don't think she wants anything to do with me."

"Oh, come on," Quinn looked at her. "She can't be _that_ mad. It's Brittany. You've told me yourself that she doesn't get angry at anything. Besides, she must know why you did it."

Santana huffed. "It's... not that simple. She didn't even watch our routine. I only saw Emma."

"Well, maybe she had to go to the bathroom or something," Quinn tried to soothe Santana's disappointment. "I mean, I know she was there when Glee club was performing. I saw her."

"Yeah, but—" Santana's phone buzzed and she took it out of her jacket. It was from Brittany's number. "Hold on," she told Quinn and the blonde nodded.

"Britt?" she greeted the caller. "Slow d—... wait whe—... Okay," Santana casted a worried look to Quinn and stood up. "Okay. Stay there, okay? I'll find you."

"Santana?" Quinn stood up and met Santana's eyes. "What's happening?"

"They're coming," answered Santana before she ran into the school building.


	31. Out

"How many of them did you see?" whispered Santana as she and Brittany ran to the Cheerios locker room— the only room Santana knew could provide them safety.

When she found her, Brittany was hiding under the teacher's desk in the Home-Ec room. Her hands were cold and her face were completely pale. She was completely on alert, and when Santana appeared out of nowhere, she almost stapled her face. Luckily, Santana's reflexes were faster and she caught Brittany's hand just in time— although she would've taken that hit if Brittany wanted her to. She knew there was still a drop of bad blood between the two of them and the fact that Brittany still called her number when Doug's men came for her made her want to cry. But that would be completely selfish of her.

"I think three. Maybe four," Brittany answered. "I heard them talking to someone on the phone about me when I was coming out from the teacher's Bathroom. They thought I stayed in line for the other one."

"Did they see you?"

"No. Wait, I don't know. Maybe they did. I ran and I didn't look back," Brittany bit her lip. "What if they did?"

Santana looked over her shoulder to find Brittany had stopped running. "Brittany, if they saw you then they're gonna catch up with us," she grabbed Brittany's hand and pulled. "Come on. The locker room's just around the corner."

When Santana and Brittany finally went through the door, Quinn was already there waiting for them with the rest of the Cheerios. She pulled them both to a quiet corner on the back of the room and gave each of them a hug before she spoke.

"Are you okay?" Quinn looked at Brittany, who gave her some nods as an answer.

"We're fine," Santana told her. "I don't know if we're being followed though."

"You were, but it's okay. Mercedes just texted me," Quinn gave her phone to Santana to read. "She followed 4 men walking behind you. Now they're just outside in the hallway. They don't want to come in because they weren't sure if the whole team was here," Quinn glanced at the door. "Trust me, we got them where we want them."

Santana pursed her lips and nodded. She trusted Quinn. She could see from Quinn's calm behavior that Sue was right about telling Quinn. It seemed like the blonde had already thought things through and she had a plan.

Sue definitely made the right choice when she appointed Quinn as Head Cheerleader.

Santana looked around the room and noted that only half of the team were at the lockers. "Where are the others?"

Quinn looked over her shoulder. "They're changing."

"You've changed too," Brittany noted and Santana scrunched her eyebrows. Brittany was right. Quinn wasn't wearing her uniform anymore. She was wearing the official McKinley High School hoodie and jeans.

_Wait a minute, what?! _Santana's jaw dropped at the sight.

Quinn was wearing a pair of jeans?

Quinn _never_ wore jeans.

"I didn't know you even own a pair of pants, Q," Santana said half jokingly. It was true. Middle school Quinn probably used to wear jeans. But high school Quinn was all about proper sundresses and cardigans and straw hats.

"Oh, this?" Quinn looked down to her legs. "I borrowed this from Nicky."

"Nicky?" Santana looked at the brunette who was sitting on one of the benches, playing with her phone. "Why? I mean, I know you're the same size and all but... I've never EVER seen you in jeans. Is this part of a makeover or something? Trying to change your image? Super weird timing, Q."

Quinn rolled her eyes, somewhat amused at Santana's remarks. She decided to ignore Santana's questions for now. "You have your keys?"

Immediately, Santana remembered what Sue had told her and reached into her pockets for them. She gave it to Quinn and let the blonde girl inspect them one by one.

"If this plan fails, use this key," Quinn held up one of the keys. It had an odd shape for the head— nothing like the rest— that Santana was surprised she had never paid attention to it before. "There's a backdoor at the back of the supply room in the gym. It'll get you to a street behind McKinley."

Santana's eyebrows furrowed, but she nodded anyway. "Alright."

"And then," Quinn took out _her_ set of keys, took one off from her keyring and added it to Santana's. "I asked Mercedes to move my car to that street. Use this spare key. Drive to my house and hide in the basement. My parents are out of town so you won't have to worry."

Santana shook her head. Brittany did the same.

"No," said Santana. She was having a major case of deja vu. Her mind went back to a couple of years before when Quinn casually offered her to use her cellphone to look for Brittany. Only this time, the situation was real. Complicated and dangerous. "We can't go to your house. They'll just break in."

"It's okay, Santana. You know the code to the house alarm, right? If they break in, then the cops are gonna come for them," Quinn shoved the keys back into Santana's hands. "Believe me. You're safe."

"No, Quinn," Brittany broke her silence. It was already extremely nice of the head Cheerio to conjure up an escape plan for her, but she couldn't let Quinn sacrifice her car nor her house. "I don't want to drag you into this. I can't let you do this for me."

Quinn shook her head and smiled sweetly to Brittany. "What are you talking about, Britt? I'm dragging _myself_ into it."

Susan walked over to that corner and tapped Quinn on the shoulder. "Ready, Captain," she told her and the head cheerleader turned around.

"Okay. I want you to pair everyone up. One brunette to one blonde, and have them line up before the door two by two. But don't get out yet. Wait for my cue," Quinn instructed Susan. "You're going to end up with 9 pairs, and there's gonna be two extra brunettes. I want one of them to walk out the room last, with me, and the other one to look for the Coach and give her this note," said the blonde handing a piece of paper to Susan. Her voice was firm. Authoritative, but still soft and pleasant to hear.

"Got it," Susan turned on her heels and walked back to the team.

"What did you tell them?" asked Brittany.

Quinn looked at Brittany straight in the eyes and told her the truth. "I told them the Santana needs help and it's very important that we do. But I didn't say anything more than that."

"And they're... okay with that?" asked Santana. "With helping me?"

She knew about her reputation among the Cheerios. She was the mean one. She really couldn't help but tell people directly if she thought they suck. In all honesty though, they should all thank her for all those times Sue aborted an extra lap because Santana had the audacity to call out the person who messed up— and made the squad do way better in front of the ruthless Coach.

"They didn't object at all," Quinn shrugged. "Despite what you think, Santana, they care a great deal about you. About all of us."

From where she was standing, Santana could see Susan do exactly what Quinn had asked. Susan paired up each brunette with a blonde, and Santana finally understood Quinn's plan. All the brunettes were still in their Cheerios uniform and jacket, and the blondes were wearing a pair of jeans and the same gray hoodie that Quinn was wearing.

Exactly what Santana and Brittany were wearing.

"Damn, Q," Santana breathed out. "I don't know if I should be impressed or scared of your mind right now."

Quinn scoffed. It really wasn't a genius plan at all, but she knew it would at least buy Santana and Brittany the time they needed to get to her car. She took a step and gave Santana a hug. "Be careful, okay? Keep your phone with you. I'll text you once I know for sure those men are out of your way," she told Santana and the darker girl nodded. Quinn then let go and gave Brittany a hug too. "Good luck, Britt."

Brittany was so touched. She was sure she couldn't say a word without choking up into tears, so she held on longer to that hug and made sure Quinn could feel her gratitude by squeezing her tight.

"Alright, girls," Quinn clapped her hands and, instantly, she got everybody's attention. "Hoods up!"

The Cheerios pulled up the top of their hoodies so that their faces were covered on both sides.

"I want you to go left after you go through the door," said Quinn as she pointed at the first pair of Cheerios. Then she pointed to the pair behind them. "You guys go right. And then everybody else follow the pattern. We'll meet back out on the side of the field in 15. Got it?"

With that, everybody in the squad nodded and Santana couldn't help but feel a lot of things in her chest. Gratitude, mostly, because she never would've thought in a million years that these girls, the very same girls she had talked down to for almost 2 years, would actually help her even though they were given very limited explanation of what was going on.

"Wait," Santana took some steps and her teammates looked her way. "Thank you, everyone. I know I haven't been your favorite person, but really... thank you. You can't even _begin _to imagine how much this means to me. I promise to try and be less bitchy to all of you when we're out of this mess," Santana ended the speech with a smirk and some of the Cheerios snorted. That wasn't an easy promise to make and they doubt it would ever happen. But Santana's eyes were glossy and the faint crack heard in her voice showed that she had meant every word, and they chose to believe in her.

"Well, then we better rock this plan," Susan winked at her and Santana return it with a smile. Sometimes Hannah wasn't so bad after all.

"We're the Cheerios," Hannah, one of the spotters in the squad said. "We're a team. If one of us falls from the pyramid, _everybody_ falls. Right, Captain?"

"Right," Quinn answered with a smile and a nod.

Quinn gave Santana and Brittany one more look and before she turned around again and walked to the end of the line. "Showtime, girls."

oOoOo

Emily, the lone brunette who was given the task of finding Sue, sprinted her way through the hallways looking for the blonde woman. First she went to her office, but the door was locked shut and she didn't see anybody in the room when she peeked through the little window on the door.

She then ran outside. The football field was still full of people— the warring players and cheering crowd were still there, celebrating their teams' honor— but Sue was still nowhere to be found. She tried asking Coach Beiste about the other coach's whereabouts, but the big burly woman was too busy watching her team, taking notes in her clipboard of what must be done to win the battle. She didn't have time to breathe, let alone answer Emily's question.

Emily went to the benches that were reserved for the teachers and asked them if they knew where Sue was. But most of them were afraid of the often heartless coach that they tried to avoid her as much as possible that almost everybody there just shook their heads to her question. The rest of them pointed fingers at nowhere in particular while keeping their eyes on the field.

Typical winners of Teacher of the Year Awards.

"Emily?"

Emily turned around and found Emma behind her. "Hi, Mrs. Schuester."

"Hi," smiled Emma. "Hey, I was wondering if you could tell me where Santana is?"

"Oh," Emily bit the inside of her cheek. Quinn had told the whole team to not tell anyone where Santana was. "She's, uh... I don't know. I think she went somewhere with Quinn."

"Oh, okay," Emma mouthed disappointedly. She was hoping to find Santana and see if she knew where Brittany was. The blonde girl hadn't returned from her bathroom trip and she was starting to worry.

"Have you seen my coach? I've been looking for her everywhere."

"I saw her about 5 minutes ago," Emma told her and Emily's eyes widened. "Why? What's wrong?"

"Where did you see her?"

"She and Mr. Schuester went to the choir room to— Emily! Wait!" Emma called the Cheerio who ran away from her like the wind before she could even finish her sentence. She huffed and gave up calling after the girl when she saw Emily didn't intend to stop at any cost. She had a more pressing matter. She had to find Brittany.

oOoOo

Santana sat quietly next to Brittany on a bench at the very back of the locker room, leaning her back against the wall, waiting for Quinn's cue to head to the gym. They hadn't said much to each other since Quinn and the Cheerios left the room. There was a lot of uncertainty hanging in the air. Just because Brittany asked Santana to come save her, it didn't mean she had forgiven her completely.

Santana pulled out her phone and sent a text message to Quinn.

**_Q, how's it going?_**

It took a full minute of waiting until her phone buzzed with a reply.

**_Heading to field with some of the girls. 2 men following us out. Waiting for the rest. Stay there._**

Santana huffed. Just like Brittany, she was anxious to get out of the room and drive them to safety. But Quinn just told her to stay and she wasn't going to risk Brittany getting caught by Doug.

She felt the bench moved and risked a glance at Brittany. The blonde girl was shifting uncomfortably in her position. Her knees were bouncing up and down from nerves and she was repeatedly closing her eyes, shaking her head once in a while like she was trying to get something out of it.

It didn't take long until Brittany was busy biting her nails. Slowly, she reached for Brittany's hand and pulled it away from her mouth. "I thought you quit."

Brittany gave her half a smile. "You make it sound like I'm on drugs or something."

Santana smiled back. Brittany was talking to her and she didn't hear anger in her voice. But still, she needed to set things straight and apologize again until she was really sure Brittany wasn't mad at her anymore.

_Here we go._

"B," she cleared her throat. "I'm sorry. I just... I didn't know what to do and I shouldn't have done what I did. Please forgive me."

There was a moment of silence and Santana, with her eyes downcast to her pristine white tennis shoes, felt her heart was about to explode. She was so afraid of what Brittany would say to her.

"Remember that fight we had when you found out he changed my classes for the rest of the year and that I was going to have new tutors?" Brittany asked and Santana looked up. "I've never told you why I agreed to those things."

"Britt, it doesn't matter now—"

"I know, but I still want you to hear it," said Brittany and Santana closed her mouth shut. "I agreed to do it because I thought I depended to much on you. You worked twice as hard because you had to make sure I understood everything— and it wasn't fair to you. _I_ wasn't being fair to you. I knew your grades went down for a while because you focused too much on _my _studies."

"Yeah, they kinda did," Santana smiled awkwardly. Embarrassed that Brittany knew more than she had let on. "But I didn't care and that was a long time ago. What does _that _have to do with... _this_?" she asked, referring to their current situation— hidden in a locker room at school.

"It has a lot to do with this," Brittany shrugged, saying it like she expected Santana to figure out an answer to the riddle. "You didn't care, Santana. You _don't_ care about what you're doing to yourself when I'm around, and I can't have that."

Santana narrowed her eyes. "What are you saying?"

"I was thinking," said Brittany as she lowered her eyes. "That maybe I should just leave."

"OK, where do you want to go?" Even though she couldn't see the relevance, Santana was quick to respond. She had thought about running away with Brittany before and if there had been any doubt she'd do it for real, it was completely gone.

Brittany shook her head and smiled softly. Santana didn't even hesitate using the word 'we'. She hadn't changed a bit. "No, I mean _me_. Without you, without Puck, Will or Emma. _Alone._"

"What?" Santana's eyes widened. "What are you talking about? B, you need to think this through."

"I did," the blonde softly said. She could tell Santana was on the verge of crying from the way her lips were quivering— no matter how hard Santana was biting them. She was silently begging her to say something. "I'm not gonna lie to you. A part of me hated you these past few days. So much."

A tear fell down from Santana's left eye but she wiped it away quickly with the back of her hand. She wanted nothing more but cry her eyes out, but it wasn't the right time to do it. Not when there was a mad man looking for them, and not when she had already cried buckets that morning.

"Brittany, if this is because I told Sue, I told you, I'm sorry. And I'll keep apologizing to you for the rest of my life if I have to, but you _can't _just leave_._"

Brittany reached for Santana's hand and held it tight. "I'm not finished," Brittany told her. She took a deep breath. "A part of me hated you because you made a decision where it should've been mine. But a part of me hated _myself_ for not realizing how difficult it must be for you too. I mean, I showed up suddenly at the front door and expected you to help me. I had no right, and I know it now. And now, here you are, stuck with me in this mess because I couldn't figure it out myself. This is like middle school all over again."

"Brittany, no," Santana shook her head. She was relieved that Brittany didn't hate her anymore, but the fact that Brittany was blaming herself for the situation was unacceptable. "Don't say that. I _asked_ you to make a promise and you kept it. That's all."

"I know you did," Brittany squeezed Santana's hand. "But what did we get out of it? I'm just a useless, stupid lump that you _have_ to carry around on your shoulders."

"No," said Santana firmly. "You are _not_ some kind of an obligation to me. How many times do I have to tell you? I love you. And I'd rather have you come back like this rather than not come back at all."

"Ssh," Brittany cut her off. Her expression grew serious. "Be quiet."

"No, you don't get it—"

"Santana!" Brittany whisper yelled and covered Santana's mouth with a hand. "There's somebody at the door."

Santana whipped her head around to look at the door and muffled voices from behind it. The handle jiggled and Santana pulled Brittany up from the bench. The conversation just had to continue another time.

She used a key from her keyring and the girls rushed into a large equipment closet and stepped back until their backs bumped onto its wall. After quietly turning the lock inside, Santana instinctively pulled Brittany behind her, making herself a barrier in case their hiding place was found out.

Santana's phone buzzed inside her pocket. She pulled it out and read the text that Quinn just sent her.

**_Only 3 men here. 1 going ur way. be safe._**

It wasn't long before the locker room door was opened and the girls heard muffled voices coming from two different men outside. Even though neither girl could make out what they were saying, they could tell that one of those men had power. He was ordering the other one around, whose voice soon disappeared along with the jingling noise that Santana assumed was keys. She realized that it was probably the janitor that the other man had ordered around.

Santana could hear lockers being open and closed. In any other situations, she would've rolled her eyes at the stupidity because, yeah, who _wouldn't _hide from a maniac in a tight locker right in the middle of a room?

"Brittany," a voice echoed, bouncing off the walls of the locker room. It was a male's voice and Santana recognized it instantly. Brittany did too. "Come on out, sweetie."

Just like that, the hand that was gripping Santana's loosened its hold and the Latina turned her head around to find Brittany slumping on the floor with both hands covering her ears, chanting under her breath, _"it's just a dream. It's just a dream."_

"Brittanyyy?" the voice called again, drawing out the last syllable in a manner that made the hair on the back of Santana's neck stand up. "There's no use in hiding, pretty girl. You know I'll find you eventually."

It took him a while but eventually Doug realized that none of the lockers could have fit two girls at once. So he started to walk faster and hit on the lockers loudly with the side of his fist instead of opening them one by one just to get a reaction from the girls.

Hearing the loud sound, Brittany whimpered and Santana quickly put a finger on Brittany's lips to quiet her down. She didn't want to use a whole hand, scared that it would trigger something in Brittany considering how violent Doug had treated her.

"BRITTANY!" yelled Doug. He'd lost his patience and hit on a locker.

_Bang!_

"COME!"

_Bang! _

"THE FUCK!"

_Bang!_

"OUT!"

_Bang!_

Brittany couldn't hold back the shakes any longer. She tried to, but they were stronger than her willpower. _Doug's voice _were stronger than her willpower.

"Ssh..." Santana tried to soothe her best friend with a hug even though her own heart was beating so fast like it could crash at any moment. She slowly, carefully, wrapped her arms around Brittany's neck, positioning them so they covered her ears. She stayed on her knees so that Brittany's mouth was secured by her left shoulder. At least that way the terrorized sounds coming from Brittany wouldn't be as loud. "I won't let him get you," she whispered. "Ssh..."

The footsteps got closer and closer, and it got to the point where Santana could actually hear Doug's heavy breathing. Santana, while maintaining her hold on Brittany, kept an eye on the tiny gap under the closet doors. It gave away where Doug was standing as it created a shadow on the floor that moved and changed shapes depending on the man's movements. And when the shadow became bigger, she knew Doug was standing right in front of the closet.

oOoOo

Emily did her task as best as she could (she was convinced she ran faster than any member of athletic club), and even though it took her long enough, she finally handed Quinn's note to Sue when she found her 15 minutes after that short conversation with Emma out in the field.

"Emily, give me your phone," she instructed the girl and turned around to Will. "Call Santana. Now."

Normally, Will wouldn't do anything Sue ordered without demanding an explanation. But there was a serious urgency in her tone that made him yield and press the buttons on his phone. That, and the fact that Santana's name was mentioned.

"She's not picking up," said Will, now completely worried. He quickly tried another number and when his call didn't get an answer, he frowned. "Neither is Brittany. Sue, what's this about."

Sue held up a finger, telling Will to be quiet, with Emily's phone pressed to her ear. "Quinn," Sue spoke through the receiver. "Tell me everything."

oOoOo

It had become too quiet all of the sudden.

The shadow on the floor suddenly disappeared and Santana almost thought Doug was gone.

Almost.

"I can see you," Doug said with a tone of voice that was too creepy to elaborate properly with words.

Santana's eyes widened. He could _see_ them?

"That Sue Sylvester," Doug chuckled, completely amused. "She never changed. Always putting cameras up everywhere. Never thought they'd work to my advantage."

Santana thought hard. Where _was_ Doug and where was he watching them from? She looked up to a corner of the closet and there it was. A camera, concealed by dusty pompoms on the top rack. Doug must be watching the feed from the monitors in Sue's small quarters at the back of the locker room.

"You know, you high schoolers are blessed with technology," Doug spoke again and Santana could hear his voice grow louder. She knew he was making a point that he was walking towards them. "Like that boy, Jacob, for example. Did you know he has a blog? Some pretty good stuff there. If it weren't for him, I wouldn't have thought my precious daughter actually had the brains to come back to Lima."

_That little prick! _Santana felt her blood boil. She was totally set on breaking his arm the next time she saw him.

Suddenly, the closet doors were pulled from the other side with enough force that made the whole closet shook, even though it was large enough to store the Cheerios' full catalogue of equipment.

Luckily, the closet was made out of metal (only the best for Sue Sylvester) and forcing it to open was not an easy thing. Doug lost his patience and started to kick its doors with the sole of his boot.

When _that_ didn't work, he made his way to the side of the closet and made it rock. Santana kept her position, shielding her best friend as best as she could. She prayed in her heart to whoever was listening to create some kind of a miracle.

_Do whatever you want with me, _she silently begged. _But please, please, please. Don't let anything happen to Brittany._

"What's going on?" a voice came from the door and Doug turned around to see Emma standing by the door. He rolled his eyes. He could easily shove the woman away.

"Oh. Mr. Geoffrey," said Emma in recognition. "I thought you were still out of the state. How is the family? Is everything alright?"

Doug rolled his eyes and rested his hands on his hip. Emma was getting on his nerves. He had a mission and she was delaying it from succeeding. "Yes, yes! Everything's alright, thank you. Don't you have somewhere else to go?!"

Santana listened to the exchange from inside the equipment and wanted nothing but to jump in between Emma and Doug. She knew Doug was losing his patience. If something ever happened to Emma, she would never forgive herself. And she knew Brittany wouldn't either.

"Not really, no," Emma smiled sweetly. "But um... You're not supposed to be here, much less destroying a school property. Coach Sylvester would—"

"Coach Sylvester can go to hell!" the man finally shouted and it made Emma jump. "Would you just. _Please._ Fuck off?!"

"Don't you dare talk to her like that!" Another voice appeared and Santana couldn't be anymore thankful for it. At least now she didn't have to worry about Emma anymore.

"Noah," Emma shook her head, holding his wrist to keep him from launching himself at Doug.

"Stay out of this, boy! Don't you have a game outside?"

"We already won and _you're_ the one who needs to get out of here," Puck bit back. "In case you didn't notice, this is the girls' locker room. I'm pretty sure I can get you arrested just for being in here."

Puck took the time to eye Doug top to bottom. The man still looked the same. Cowboy hat, bolo tie, creme colored suit— and an invisible shroud of pride around him. Doug looked good and it made the teenager want to turn him into a punching bag. This was his first time seeing Doug after 4 years and compared to how broken Brittany was when Puck saw her the first time, this man was a walking silver and gold— all spotless and unscathed.

Puck maintained his eye contact and watched as the man's jaw tightened. He_ could_ just spill everything right there and then— tell Emma everything he knew about what Brittany had gone through. But without Brittany's presence, it would just be his words against Doug. Besides, even if she _had_ been there, it wasn't like Brittany would give him the consent to tell.

Which was a shame because he'd really love it if the bastard could pay for everything he'd done to her.

"Get out," Puck said through gritted teeth. He took a step closer to Emma, leaving a gap between the door and themselves that was just enough for a man to squeeze through.

Doug growled out of annoyance. He knew Puck was right and he couldn't risk himself getting arrested because he hadn't had his hands on what he wanted yet— Brittany. Not to mention the fact that Puck had become a full grown man now. The football gear he still had on made him even bigger and Doug had no doubt the boy would win if he were to challenge him to a fist fight.

"Fine," he held both of his hands up. The man casted one last look towards the closet he was trying to open just a few moments earlier and smirked, orchestrating another plan in his brain to get his step daughter back. "I'm leaving."

oOoOo

The locker room was suddenly full of people when Puck opened the doors to the closet that Santana and Brittany were hiding in. He knew they were there because Doug wouldn't move from it it when they were talking— like he had something precious inside.

Puck kneeled down and gently put a hand on Santana. She was still trembling a little bit from the adrenaline rush, but she was fine and still had her arms around Brittany.

"Are you okay?" asked Puck.

Santana broke the hug and looked over Puck's shoulders. She saw her Coach, Quinn, Will, Emma and Mercedes staring at them wordlessly, waiting for any kind of reaction from her at the other side of the room. She was pretty sure they were all holding their breaths.

"I'm okay," said Santana with a voice that only Puck could hear.

Puck took a glance at Brittany. "Do you need a moment?"

Santana nodded.

"I'll ask everybody to get out, okay?" he stood up. "I'll be right outside the door with Quinn."

"Thanks," Santana gave him a smile and he returned it by giving her a pat on the top of her head.

oOoOo

"What is going on around here?!" Will demanded from the people around him. It seemed like he was the only one in the dark. Even Emma looked like she knew something.

"Calm down, Will," Sue reminded him that they were still an earshot from the girls and Will looked like he was about to die out of shock.

Sue just called him with his real name.

"I need to talk to you and Emma in my office," said the cheer coach. She knew it would breach both Santana's and Brittany's trust that they had laid upon her, but the situation had taken a turn. It was crucial that she let Will and Emma know about the real circumstances.

"At least tell us what this is about?" Emma called to the woman when Sue started walking to her office, leaving the rest of them behind.

Sue turned around. "It's about your girls, and believe me, you'll need to sit down for this. Puckerman, Q, Aretha," she looked at the three students who immediately straightened up their postures. "Be on guard."

Meanwhile, back in the locker room, Santana was internally panicking because of the sight she was seeing in front of her. Brittany wasn't responding to anything she was doing. The blonde girl was completely limp with her back against the closet wall. Both her hands were useless, slumped on her sides.

"Britt," Santana whispered to her when a tear fell from Brittany's right eye.

"...ust a dream," Brittany whimpered.

Santana felt a surge of relief going through her and smiled when she heard Brittany's voice. But that smile turned into a frown when she realized that Brittany was just chanting the same thing over and over again. She wasn't fully awake yet.

"Brittany," Santana called again.

No response at first. But when Santana's hand accidentally brushed against Brittany's knee, the blonde girl jerked away and scurried closer to the corner wall, even though there was really no more space between them.

"No, no, no, no," Brittany shook her head with her eyes closed and her hands thrashing about, pushing Santana's hands away.

"Brittany, it's me. He's gone."

To say that Santana's heart was breaking for Brittany was a complete play down of what she was feeling. Brittany was trapped somewhere terrifying and there was absolutely nothing she could do to get her away from it. It wasn't like she could physically grab Brittany from a memory and bring her back to reality. It was something that Brittany had to do herself, like how she had done many terrible nights before.

So Santana waited.

And waited and waited.

It was only a couple of minutes before she tried touching her again, but it seemed like Brittany had been confined in that dark place forever. The fact that Doug had found her terrified Brittany to the core and she was left with open wounds inside her head.

"Brittany," called Santana, trying hard not to panic. She cupped Brittany's face and brought it closer to hers in the hopes that Brittany would realize that it was really Santana she was looking at. "It's me, B. I'm not going to hurt you."

But Brittany couldn't see her. Not yet. It was still her stepfather in front of her with evil hungry eyes.

"Stop! Please stop! Go away!" Brittany started to sob. "Please just go away. _Please."_

Santana caught her hands when Brittany tried to violently slap her away, and she could see her best friend surrendering to defeat.

Brittany's blue eyes were opened and seemingly looking at Santana, but in reality, she wasn't really _looking_ at her. She had no control of her brain as it fed her images of the man who was hunting for her. She whimpered in fear and tried to pull her hands out of Santana's. In her mind the hands that were holding hers were about to do things to her. Mean things. Hurtful things, and they were never going to stop.

oOoOo

"How could you not tell us about this?!" Will slammed the desk and Emma jumped in her seat. Sue, on the other hand, remained unimpressed. "These are our girls. Our _daughters._ How could you keep this from us?!"

"Will," Emma grabbed his hand. It seemed like all she did was reminding people around her to not be violent... and she didn't mind it at all. "Calm down."

Will jerked his hand away. "Calm down?! Emma did you hear what she just said?" he looked at her with eyes ready to pop out of their sockets. He couldn't believe Emma wasn't concerned about the matter. "Brittany ran away. There _was_ no emergency. She ran away and Santana's been helping her lie to us."

"God forbid, William, that you will ever stop interrupting me when I'm talking," Sue deadpanned. She was already offended by the ridiculous cologne Will was wearing and now, he didn't even have the decency to wait for the whole story? The nerve.

"Sit down, honey," Emma tugged on his right sleeve and he, reluctantly, sat back down in his chair.

"You shouldn't be focusing on the fact that they lied." Sue opened a drawer and reached for a brown envelope. "If you care about them as much as you said you do, you should be asking yourself _why_ they lied— why Brittany ran away."

Will shifted uncomfortably in his seat. Sue had a point.

"I'm going to show you something," the cheerleading coach opened the envelope and took out some of its contents. She spread out several photos that she printed at home, all faced down on her desk, before she spoke again. "I'm going to let you make the choice of flipping these pictures open later, but first," she clasped her hands together. "Let me tell you a story."

oOoOo

"Please," Brittany begged the man who took over her mind, sobbing and still completely unaware of her surroundings. "Please stop. Why are you hurting me? Why don't you love me?"

It physically pained Santana to watch Brittany like this. Her heart was overcome with pangs, like someone was trying to rip it out of her chest. _It's not fair,_ she thought. _Why couldn't it be me instead? _God knows she'd gladly take Brittany's place if she could but the fact was, she couldn't. So Santana did the only thing she could think of to convince Brittany that she wasn't going to hurt her. To tell Brittany that she was safe. To tell her that she was loved.

Santana kissed her.

Santana kissed her and nothing else mattered. She didn't care that it was her best friend she was kissing, who happened to be a girl, because why should she? All she cared about was bringing Brittany back. Loving her. If it meant Brittany slapping her silly because of that kiss, if it meant Brittany hating her for the rest of her life, then so be it. At least that would mean she was set free from the torture.

When the blonde didn't (couldn't) respond with anything other than more tears and whimpers, the desperation in her heart bubbled up that she started to cry into the kiss. "Come back to me, Brittany," she sobbed. She couldn't let Brittany stay in that dark, dark place any longer._  
><em>

_I love you. More than anything in this world._

Slowly, but surely, Santana could feel the tension in Brittany's hands dissipate with each nanosecond and when it was completely gone, she let them go and brought her own back up to cup Brittany's face.

Santana was about to pull back when she felt movement from Brittany's lips. Brittany was kissing her back, even though it was faint and she was still crying.

"Open your eyes, Brittany," Santana rested her forehead against the other girl's. Brittany had calmed down a considerable amount, but she needed to know for sure that Brittany was okay. "I'm right here. I will always be right here."

* * *

><p><em><strong>AN:** I'm SO not ready for tonight's episode._

_P.S. How beautiful is 'Mine'?! I can't stop listening to it!_

_Anyhoo, I think we're coming to an end soon. Probably 2-3 more chapters. Will try to tie everything up all nice and tidy like a christmas present. :)_

_Thank you for reading and all your reviews, favorites and alerts, everybody. They keep me writing :) :)_


	32. Gone

_Santana was about to pull back when she felt movement from Brittany's lips. Brittany was kissing her back, even though it was faint and she was still crying._

_"Open your eyes, Brittany," Santana rested her forehead against the other girl's. Brittany had calmed down a considerable amount, but she needed to know for sure that Brittany was okay. "I'm right here. I will always be right here."_

"San...," Brittany breathed out with what was left of her sobs and hiccups. Her hands reached out to find anything to grab onto. "Santana."

"I'm here," Santana caught her hands and brought them to cup her face so Brittany could feel her as she spoke. "I'm here."

Hearing Santana's voice, feeling her jaw move with the words, Brittany's eyes fluttered open. At first her best friend was nothing more than just a shadow, blurry on the edges, but then her eyes adjusted to the light and her mind finally recognized the girl in front of her— her big brown eyes before anything else.

What a sight to wake up to.

It was like a floodgate had been open for them both. They hurriedly reached for each other and held on tight— Santana's arms around Brittany and vice versa— relieved that the nightmare was over for now. It might've only lasted for a little while, but to them it felt like a lifetime and it really didn't seem like it was ever going to end.

"You're back," Santana laughed into Brittany's hair, feeling a plethora of emotions at once, and the blonde girl, still half awake from the terror, could only nod in response.

Santana pulled back and met Brittany's blue eyes. "We have to get out of here. Doug is _not_ gonna give up before he gets what he wanted. He's gonna come back anytime now," Santana looked over her shoulder at the door. She caught a glimpse of Puck's mohawk and Quinn's blonde hair through the small window before she turned back around to face Brittany. "Do you still want us to go with Quinn's plan? It's a pretty good one. Even if we kinda have rely on the cops."

Brittany watched Santana as she watched her, looking for a yes or a no with an urgency in her eyes. She wished that time would just stop so she could look at them forever and get lost in them— maybe even talk about what just happened— but time was never on her side before, and it sure wasn't on her side then.

"No," she shook her head, referring to the word 'us' that Santana had just used. "No, Santana, this isn't her fight. This isn't your fight either."

"The hell it isn't!" Santana's eyes widened, but then she lowered her tone again when she realized that it wasn't the time to get feisty. "Brittany, I might've screwed things up by going behind your back... but this is my fight as much as it's yours. I'm not leaving you. And I'm not gonna let _you_ leave again because I've been through life without you and it sucked balls," she huffed and that earned her a small chuckle of amusement from Brittany. "And I've told you before, it hurt me that I could've done something to prevent all of this from happening, so please... _please_ let me at least try this time."

Santana took a deep breath and considered if she should spill everything and turn the conversation into something more— especially because she had _just_ kissed Brittany, and Brittany kissed her back. But the voices in her head said no, and for once she agreed with them. She decided to skim now, and elaborate later— when they were certain Doug was completely gone from their lives.

"I love you, B," settled Santana, adding one last bit just like she always had. "You're my best friend."

Brittany opened and closed her mouth several times. She wanted to argue with Santana, but something told her Santana was dead sure about this one. If Brittany were to run away, Santana would just run after her and Brittany just couldn't have Santana recklessly, single-handedly try to take on each and every one of Doug's men to get to her.

As for that other thing— the thing that Santana didn't seem too eager to talk about— Brittany would just have to wait.

"Okay," she nodded quietly, looking back straight into Santana's eyes. "Okay."

"Good, cause I already got a speech prepared to change your mind if you said no," Santana smiled. In reality, she really didn't have that speech. She also knew that with just one pout, Brittany could coax her to do just about anything. But she needed the joke to calm herself down.

Plus, it never hurt to see Brittany smile.

"Can you stand up?" asked Santana. They really shouldn't be spending any more time cooped up in the same place. Not when Doug already knew where they were.

"I..." Brittany made circles with her left ankle just to check. It seemed strong enough. "I think so."

"Okay, come on," Santana got up and pulled Brittany up, making sure that she wouldn't fall back down.

Once Brittany was steady on her feet, Santana let go of one of her hands, but kept the other one in her firm grip. Now that Brittany was back, she wasn't going to let go. Ever.

They hurriedly walked to the door to meet Puck and Quinn who was busy discussing something in contained whispers. Puck's face were so red with anger. The only thing keeping him from exploding was Quinn's hand on his arm, rubbing up and down to somewhat soothe his rage.

Brittany held Santana back a bit and tugged on her hand. She didn't want to ruin the sweet moment that was transpiring in front of her eyes. But Santana thought Puck and Quinn could be all lovey dovey later, when they got Doug out of their hairs, and kept marching forward.

"Jesus, you scared me!" Quinn jumped the second she saw Santana and Brittany from the corner of her eyes. She gave each of them a hug. It felt like all they'd been doing was hug all day. "Are you guys okay?"

"Yeah, we're okay," Brittany spoke up despite her trembling voice. She was lucky Santana was still holding her hand because if she wasn't, there was no telling if she could stop herself from breaking down again. She cleared her throat. "How about you? Are you alright? And the Cheerios?"

"They're good," Quinn huffed. "I'm really sorry we couldn't get all of them."

Santana shook her head. "You got 3 out of 4. We wouldn't have come up with a better one."

"He still got to you, though," Quinn kicked the floor and crossed her arms, completely frustrated with herself. "I just want you guys to be safe... and it kills me knowing that he could've... I don't know. He could've done something bad. Again."

"Hey," Santana frowned. None of this was Quinn's fault. In fact, Quinn wasn't supposed to get involved in the mess. "Seriously, Q, if he wasn't alone, if he got his men with him, we wouldn't be talking right now. So don't kick yourself around like that."

Puck stepped in and rested his hand right where Quinn's neck and shoulders meet, giving her comfort not unlike what she had tried to provide him with. "What are you gonna do now?" he asked. "Azimio just texted me asking why I'm not outside with the team and, apparently that asshole is taking advantage of the celebration. He's waiting for you outside."

Santana gave him a weak smile. She looked at Brittany for a go-ahead, and when the blonde gave her a nod, she turned back to Puck and started to talk. "About that..."

oOoOo

"Oh my God," Will slumped in his chair with both hands covering his face. He could care less about Sue watching him cry, but he covered it anyway. "How could he do that to her? How could he— Oh, God. And I was the one who gave her to him! It was _me_ who signed the papers!"

Sue looked at the man and woman in front of her with more sympathy she had ever given them. She knew how it felt to have that kind of news dropping on him like a bomb. Even though Brittany was not someone she was particularly close with, she couldn't help but imagine one of her Cheerios being trapped under the same circumstances. Dear God, what if it were Santana... Or Quinn? Or Hannah, Susan, Emily or anybody else in the squad for that matter? Her stomach churned just thinking about it.

Lucky for her, she'd already cried her eyes out the very night she received those pictures from Santana in her emails. How could someone behave like a monster to a 12 year old girl and not receive karma in the form of lightning bolts, she didn't know. All she knew that Doug Geoffrey was an evil man and he had to be stopped. Like hell she was going to let that man roam around free looking for another victim.

"William, Emma," Sue looked at the couple. "I know this is hard to take, but I need you to put aside your emotions for a minute. I hate to say this, but your crying isn't going to change the past. What's happened, happened. The important thing right now is that we do everything we can to put this man where he belongs."

Emma nodded and wiped some of her tears with a handkerchief. She was the one to turn the pictures right side up, and from the very first one her sobs had been unstoppable. Her eyeliner was ruined and now was forming some sort of a roadmap from her eyes to her cheeks, but she didn't care. All the tears in the world would never be enough to drown the pain she was feeling. "We understand," she sniffled, grabbing hold of her husband's hand. "Did you ever talked about it with Santana? Or Brittany?"

"Santana and I had a small conversation about it, yes," Sue nodded. "But they didn't matter, as Brittany was reluctant to do anything about it. From what I've heard from Santana, Brittany didn't want to drag you into this matter. Which is why she lied to you."

"But why?" asked Will. He didn't like hearing the truth. "Haven't we been treating her like our own daughter? She shouldn't have hesitated about this. Were we not good enough to her?"

Sue smiled at that last question. It was an inappropriate thought considering the situation, but sometimes she liked it when Will questioned himself. Still, she had to tell them the truth. "I can assure you that Brittany thinks very highly of your family. She loves you very, very much. But you have to understand the trauma that Brittany is going through. It's very tough for her to put her trust in anyone— not just you, but even Santana," Sue clasped her hands on her desk. "Then, even if she trusted _you _enough to tell the truth, she didn't want to trust the system. It was, in essence, what got her in Doug's hands in the first time."

Will got up from his seat and ran his fingers through her hair in frustration. "We need to do something," he gritted his teeth. "We need to get this man away forever. I don't even care if I had to die to make sure of it."

"Way ahead of you, curly," Sue smirked. "I talked to some of my friends— my _high ranking_ friends just to make sure there _is_ something we can do about it. They've been on his tail since I got those pictures, waiting for a slip up from his end that they could use against him. They haven't seen these pictures because I wouldn't let them just yet, but they assured me that photographic evidence worth a lot in these cases— especially when they involve a minor. However..." she trailed off.

"However?" asked Emma. She was sitting on the edge of her seat already.

"However, we're going to need Brittany's consent before doing anything," Sue explained the obvious. "If she's not willing to go on the record, then the case is often disregarded. Unless we can find someone else— someone who has credibility and proofs— to testify against him."

The room went quiet. What Sue had just said didn't seem a lot to take, but it was actually more that what they could process at the moment.

"Nancy," Emma mumbled suddenly. "She'd do it. She loved Brittany, and even back then I could tell she had her own problems with Doug."

"Geoffrey's wife?" asked Sue and the redhead nodded. "Do you even know where she is?"

"No," Emma huffed. But not a moment after she slumped onto the back of her seat, she sat up again. "But I know someone who might. She had a nephew who went to McKinley. Remember?" she turned her head around to Will. "Todd? He was one of your Spanish kids. I bet if we look through his records we'd find his number."

"But even if we found it, there's no guarantee he'd be there," Will countered and Emma returned it with an eye roll that amused Sue so much, she almost applauded the other woman.

"We don't need him, Will. We just need one of his family member to tell us if they knew where Nancy was," said Emma exasperatedly. "Besides, do you _really _ want to let your doubt take over and not try the possibilities?"

"Alright, that settles it," Sue stood up. She walked up to the door and opened it. "We can find his records later. Right now, we need to make sure the girls are alright. That scumbag's still out there and he's probably still waiting around for the girls to come out. I've posted my Cheerios on different locations and told them to text me if anything happens. Now I haven't gotten a single one, but there's no guarantee nothing happened yet. We can never be too sure."

Sue stepped out of her office and held the door for the other two teachers before she locked it shut. She let Will and Emma walk in front of her, knowing that they must want to be the first ones to see Santana and Brittany after learning all the facts, and she was right in doing so. She could swear she'd never seen Will, nor Emma, move as fast as they did.

Once they got close enough to the locker room, Sue frowned. All her Cheerios were standing in front of the door, including Quinn. That was _not _part of her instructions.

"What's going on?" Sue sped up her steps while Will and Emma got into the locker room. "Why are you here? Did I not specifically instructed you all to stand guard at your positions?"

Quinn signaled to the Cheerios to walk a distance away before she stepped forward to appease the woman's building temper. "Coach," she raised both hands. "I called them back because—"

"Where's Santana?" asked Will as he stepped out of the room. "She's not in there! And where's Brittany? And Puck! Quinn, where are they?"

"They just left," Quinn gulped. The confidence that she managed to muster had gone completely once she had a look at Will's widened eyes. "Santana and Brittany... they wanted to get out of here. They knew Doug was still around and so they thought they needed to stick to the original plan," Quinn looked at her coach and the woman furrowed her brows. It sounded like the most idiotic action ever.

"And you let them go?" Will unconsciously yelled at her and Quinn flinched. Will had never raised a voice to his students before. It earned him glares from both his wife and Sue, but both of them let it go just because they shared the same anxiety with him.

"I swear I tried to stop them but—"

"Quinn, it's okay," Emma felt the need to step in. The tension was getting too much for the blonde girl and the only way to find out what was going on was to keep her from crying. Emma put an arm around Quinn. "You said something about a plan? Do you know where they're going?"

Quinn nodded. "The alley behind the school. That's where my car is. The original plan was to go to my house and hide there until we're sure those men were gone. Brittany still wanted to keep this on the down low. So we figured, if we're lucky, those men would break into the house and the cops would at least arrest them for B&E, and then you wouldn't have to be involved."

"What about Puckerman?" Sue asked.

"He went with them. I didn't want them to go alone so he—" her phone buzzed and Quinn clicked a button to read a message on the screen. "Nevermind," she said with a shaky voice and gave the phone to Sue to read.

**_Sum1 clocked me from behind. S, B & ur car gone. Doug too._**

oOoOo

Santana looked to her right side, where a gun was held pointing at her, and swallowed hard. Never in her scariest dreams did she ever imagine being held at gunpoint by a maniac.

"Scary, isn't it?" the man asked. He took off his hat with his free hand and fanned himself with it. Who knew chasing around a couple of teenage girls would be that tiring. Still, he was pretty proud of himself for knocking Puck over and effectively got him out of his way. "This is why you should've thought things through, Santana. What kind of a cowboy would I be if I didn't pack any heat?"

"Why don't you just shoot me then?" Santana said through gritted teeth. She was trying hard to keep her hands on the wheel and her eyes on the road.

"Where's the fun in that?" Doug put his hat on the dashboard. He ran his fingers on Santana's right arm, making the hairs on the back of her neck stand up and her stomach churn with disgust. "You know, you grew up to be a pretty girl as well... Ain't that right, Brittany?"

Brittany didn't answer. She was too terrified. Not to what could happen to her (again), but to what Doug could and _would_ do to Santana. The way he was dragging his fingers up and down Santana's skin was too familiar.

"Ain't that right, Brittany?!" shouted Doug when he didn't hear her voice, cocking the gun and pointing it at Santana's temple.

"STOP!" Brittany yelled and surprised herself. She got so used to being in a state of panic that she couldn't believe she wasn't shaking even though Doug was an arm's length from her— with a gun in his hand. Sure, she had tears in her eyes, but wouldn't _you, _if your best friend was held at gunpoint?

"Yes!" she told her stepfather. "You're right! Stop, please. Let her go, just take _me_."

"Brittany, no! Shut up!" Santana told her from the driver's seat and that made Doug laugh with amusement.

"You two are quite the pair," the man chuckled, but then his voice turned serious again. "Keep driving."

Santana's jaw tightened. "Where are we going?"

"Home," Doug smirked at Brittany. "But first, a quick stop at the park. And step on it... or else."

The girls exchanged looks through the rearview mirror and communicated through their eyes. Santana, with a weak smile that only Brittany could read, told the blonde it was all going to be alright. Brittany returned it with pursed lips and a nod that Doug almost didn't notice.

"Brittany," called Doug. That little nod was too suspicious. "If you try _anything, _you might as well say bye-bye to Santana right now. Got it?"

"Yes, sir," Brittany nodded. "Can I please put on my seatbelt?"

Doug scoffed. "You're just like your mother. Sure, sure, put it on," he said as he waved his gun around. Santana considered elbowing him while he was distracted, but she knew she needed to get themselves out of the car if she wanted them to truly escape instead of causing a commotion inside the car. So she gripped the steering wheel tighter and stepped on the gas just like she was asked to do.

"Whoa, whoa, whoa, Santana," Doug gripped the grab handle with his free hand to balance himself. "Where did you learn to drive like this?"

Santana shrugged. "You're the one who told me to step on it."

Doug laughed and nudged Santana's temple with the end of his gun (Brittany flinched in the backseat). "You know, if you weren't so busy keeping Brittany away from me, I would've liked you more. I probably would've made you part of the family too."

"So you can abuse me like you did to her? You're a sick bastard," Santana spat. She knew she was risking getting shot, but she needed to gauge a reaction from him so she could formulate an escape scenario and predict how far he was willing to go. "Do you feel proud of yourself? You're just a fucked up, fat coward who gets off watching girls one-third your age cry and beating them."

Doug smirked at her and took his time eyeing her up and down. "How smart do you think you are, Santana? Do you think I don't know what you're doing? Do you really think I don't know that you're planning a million different scenarios where I would get angry, let you out of the car and pop this gun, just so Brittany here," he looked at the blonde girl pointedly, "could run away?"

"Don't flatter yourself," said Santana trying to not break the facade she had going on. "You have _no _idea."

Brittany, from the backseat, watched nervously as Santana and Doug had their loaded banter. She lived with the man for 4 years. She knew Doug didn't mess around with his threats. The punches, kicks and strangles definitely taught her that.

At the same time, she knew that everything that Santana decided to say out loud, they were never half-assed. What she said, she meant them all. If she said she had plans going around in her head, then it was the truth.

She wondered for a brief second how far Santana would go to get them out of Doug's hands.

She wondered for a brief second how far Santana would go to get _her_ out of Doug's hands.

oOoOo

"We need to find them! Ow!" Puck scrunched his face and reach for the back of his head where Doug had clocked him with his gun. When Quinn and the others found her, he was fighting the headache that came from the injury and was struggling to stand up in the alley behind the school.

"Did he say something? Do you know where he's taking them?" asked Will with one arm steadying his son as they stood up.

"No," Puck pressed one palm of his hand to his right eye. "He knocked me out cold. Next thing I knew they were all gone."

"Coach," Quinn turned on her heels. "Remember that time when the Cheerios helped the Lima PD with their annual Christmas ball? Can't we get an APB or an APW or a WTF or whatever on my car? They owed us a favor."

Sue smiled at her. "You know, Barbie? You just made the proudest cheerleading coach in the country. Hold on," she took out her cellphone from her tracksuit pocket and dialed. "Heeeey, Richie. It's Sue Sylvester. Yeah... No, I... Dear Lord, stop yapping and shut your pie hole," she rolled her eyes. "You owe me a favor and I need you to pay up."

oOoOo

Brittany shook her head lightly to let her horrific thoughts roam outside her brain and looked out her window. It was really dark. Almost all the shops were closed and there were only a few cars out— which wasn't a surprise considering everybody was at McKinley for the game. But she recognized the shapes and the patterns on the buildings and roads just fine. She knew where they were and where they were going.

She saw the ice cream parlor and glanced at the clock on the dashboard. She scrunched her eyebrows. _That can't be right_, she thought. Normally it would take them around 15 minutes to get to that park from school without traffic and yet... Santana drove them there in less than 10?

"What now?" asked Santana to the man next to her. There was a left turn up ahead and once they make that turn, they'd arrive at the parking lot.

Doug jerked his chin and pointed to a lone tree in the distance. "Drive on the lawn. To that tree over there."

Brittany stretched her neck so she could see the tree Doug was talking about. Sure enough, it was Santana's tree. The one that she used to come and confide to.

Santana felt her throat drying up and swallowed. She tried to conceal her nervousness as she talked. She knew this couldn't be good. "To a tree? What, you got your men waiting for you out there? Can't handle a couple of teenage girls on your own?"

Doug scoffed. "I don't need those stupid men. That tree," he jerked his chin again, "is where I'm going to make you bleed and leave you to die."

"No!" Brittany yelled and moved to unlatch her seatbelt. She couldn't let Doug do anything to Santana.

"Fucking shut up!" Doug yelled back and slammed his palm on the dashboard out of annoyance. He unbuckled _his_ seatbelt and turned to point his gun at Brittany. "Do you want me to kill you, instead, Brittany? Do you?!"

"No! Brittany!" Santana called her best friend. "Stop!"

"Listen to her, Brittany," Doug told the blonde girl. "She knows what's up. So just be a good girl and wait until it's _our _turn to have fun."

Brittany was crying her eyes out, albeit silently, as she blamed herself for ever coming back to Lima. "Santana," she whimpered. She wasn't ready to be apart from her best friend again— she could never be ready.

Santana, with her own tears pooling in her eyes, spoke as best as she could without letting the tears block her eyesight. She _finally _figured out what she needed to do, and it would only work if she could see through the darkness. "Brittany, it's okay. Please, trust me."

When Brittany made no move and kept a staring contest with Doug's gun, Santana repeated her plea. "Brittany, sit back," she said again. "Put your seatbelt back on. Please," she _begged_ Brittany as they locked eyes through the mirror

Doug roared with laughter at the ridiculousness he was hearing. "That's right, Brittany. Be a good girl and put on your seatbelt," he mocked.

The sound of Doug's laughter made the her blood boil and Brittany wanted nothing but to strangle the man. But another glance through the mirror, and Brittany was ready put all her trust into Santana's hands. Santana was sneaking a peek at something on her right and the way her eyes twinkled in the dim light told Brittany that she had a plan. There was a silent _"I got this," _in the darker girl's eyes and Brittany chose to believe in it.

Brittany wiped her tears away, knowing that Santana didn't need a distraction, and intentionally pushed the buckle together harder than she should, just to make sure Santana could hear the clicking sound of her seatbelt.

And Santana did.

The second she heard the sound, she stepped on the gas, driving on the lawn towards the linden tree.

"What are you doing!?" a panicked Doug tried to steady himself. He wasn't expecting the sudden change of speed.

Santana didn't answer. Instead, she pushed the pedal further with her right foot.

"Stop the car!" shouted Doug. He could see the big tree looking closer and closer... and_ closer_ as the car didn't seem to be slowing down. He pointed the gun at Santana (she flinched a little, while Brittany tried to stifle a sob by covering her mouth with one hand). "STOP THE FUCKING CAR!"

Santana let out a long exhale. One misstep would cost her a life. The question was, whose?

"STOP THE FUCKING CAR OR I'LL FUCKING SHOOT YOU!" Doug yelled again when he realized the car wasn't slowing down.

Santana took one last look at Brittany through the mirror. _This is it_, she told her through a brainwave shared by only them and the blonde girl nodded again.

Santana looked to her right, straight at Doug's eyes. "As you wish," she said as she pulled the hand brake.

Everything that happened after that was a complete blur to Santana, but the last thing going through her mind as the car toppled over was a certain stormy Thursday involving a fight with her mom.

_What a way to end, _Santana thought. _What a way to end._

oOoOo

There were red and blue lights swirling in the distance when Brittany opened her eyes, also a terrible headache, an ache on her arm, and a couple of women in white uniform hauling her in what apparently felt like a moving bed.

"Sweetie? Can you tell me your name?" One of them asked.

Brittany blinked her eyes several times, adjusting her eyes to the shining flashlight that the woman was holding in her hand. "Brittany."

"Good job, Brittany," the other one smiled as she made sure Brittany was securely strapped onto the gurney. "Lay back, okay? We're going to take you to a hospital. Everything's going to be alright. I need you to relax."

Brittany's eyes widened instantly. "The hospital?" She asked. "What happened?"

"You were in a crash, honey."

It was then when she started to remember everything that happened that day. The fight, the locker room, the car... And most importantly,

"Where's Santana?!" Brittany asked. "I need to see her. Where is she?"

Brittany didn't get an answer. Or maybe she did, from the way the two women looked at each other, then at her.

"Everything's going to be alright, sweetie," answered the one on the left as she opened the doors to the ambulance. "Everything's going to be alright."

Brittany nodded with all the energy she had left. She wanted to believe what they said. But when she saw another paramedic covered the face of a body on a gurney and pushed it into another ambulance, she could tell something was wrong.

"No, no, no, no," she started to weakly shook her head. Her tears were unstoppable now. "No! Get me Santana!"

"Ssh..." one of the women tried to calm her down. "It's okay. I promise you'll see her very soon. Just let us get you in the ambulance, okay?"

Whether it was because of the IV connected to her or because of her own fatigue, Brittany felt her energy was draining out like water in a bathtub. She was too weak to argue with the paramedics. She almost couldn't feel, couldn't _do, _anything except to lie back as they pushed her gurney into a waiting EMT vehicle and stare at its ceiling. It was bright and white and when they closed the door, it stayed bright and white. She figured it was because the paramedics needed the light to take care of her.

The woman in uniform pushed back some of Brittany's blonde hair from her face and smiled. "Look," she jerked her chin to Brittany's right and the young girl slowly, with a strain in her neck looked to where the woman was gesturing. "I told you you could see her soon, didn't I?"

Brittany, with what energy left in her, sobbed— but with a smile gracing her face this time. There, on her right, laid Santana who looked like she was simply sleeping. She could swear she could see her best friend smiling— even though she couldn't see that well and she was sure Santana was as injured as she was. The neck brace she was wearing was proof enough.

"Santana," she breathed to no one in particular, just to feel that name on her lips.

"Hmm..." the girl next to her replied weakly. "..m here."

It was hard to see it, having her head secured tight to the stretcher, but Brittany could feel with all of her senses that there was an arm reaching out to her side. Surely enough, it was Santana's.

Brittany reached back and guarded Santana's pinkie with her own during their whole ride to the hospital.

Never in her life had she ever slept that peaceful before.

* * *

><p><em><strong>AN:** Aaaalllmost at the end, guys :) As always, thank you for the reviews and alerts and favorites!_

_NYABG: NOW I know what it feels like to cry like a baby whale. Heather killed that scene and she killed me too._


	33. Morning

**May 8, 2010, 04:27AM**

It was like a scene from a movie that Emma almost took a step back out when she got to the girls' room that early morning. White walls with a green hue to it, matching the scrubs seen almost everywhere in the building, IV lines attached to the girls' arms, and machines that beep (they weren't loud at all, but somehow it was the most ear-piercing, gut-wrenching noise that she had ever heard). It was almost too much for her to take— Santana and Brittany lying there in their respective hospital beds all bandaged and bruised.

After spending a little time trying hard to get her feet to move past the doorway, Emma finally walked over to light blue curtain and carefully, as quietly as possible, pushed it to the further end of the railing so that the girls could see each other when they woke up. She knew they would've liked that.

She put down a duffel bag that Quinn had voluntarily packed with Santana's clothes (and a few of Puck's t-shirts that she had seen on Brittany) on the floor and brought a chair over to a spot right between the two girls' hospital beds. She sat there and looked around room, taking mental pictures of the things in it, including the clock on the wall, the small vase of fake plastic flowers and a hanged artwork from the pediatric department. She listened as the machines beep and watched the drips from Santana's IV match the rhythm. Again she was reminded of the very stressful night they had gone through, and of how easy it was to have everything— everyone— stripped away from their lives.

The room was too big. Too spacious. Even though she was very grateful to Sue and her doing everything in her power to get the girls in the same room (it was hard, considering they weren't related and that the ER was especially crowded that night), Emma wished it was smaller so she could hold both girls' hands at the same time. It was a very tough choice for her to make. Should she hold Santana's hand, or Brittany's? There was no right answer. So she laid back on the chair, making sure that she was casting equal amount of attention– glances and looks– for both her girls.

She even timed it with her wristwatch just to be sure.

oOoOo

_When Santana came to, she couldn't really feel anything. She blinked a few times, busy remembering the sequence of events that lead her to a dark night in the middle of a park. She stayed there for a while, in a car whose condition was pretty much similar to her– upside down, and soaking everything in— including the deflated airbag in front of her, the scattered tiny pieces of glass and lastly, the large gaping hole that used to be the front windshield. It wasn't until she heard a small groan from behind her that she snapped into reality._

_"Britt," she croaked, then she winced from a sharp pang. For some reason, her left side hurt when she breathed, and it hurt more when she talked. "Brittany, are you hurt?" she asked again, even though she knew it was a silly question. Of course Brittany was hurt. Who wouldn't be, after a crash like that? _

_Brittany didn't answer._

_She tried looking at the rearview mirror, but it was hopeless as she was upside down and was in a strange angle. Santana sucked as much air as she could in one quick inhale _to minimize her pain _and located the seatbelt button with her thumb. It was a little hard to get out of the flipped car as she was injured and extremely disoriented like a spinning top, but her determination to get Brittany out of that same car was bigger than her concern for herself. She was pleasantly surprised by her own strength when she successfully dragged her blonde friend to safety and a distance away from the car (she'd watched enough movies to know that the smallest spark could cause the car to go up in flames)._

_Brittany was in and out of it. She kept mumbling something incoherent, but she didn't (couldn't?) move a lot. There was a bloody, but not too severe gash on the left side of her forehead and Santana figured she had hit her head on the car window during the impact. Thankfully, aside from that wound, there was no other visible injuries on her body and Santana was happy enough that her best friend was still breathing properly and had a steady heartbeat— thank God Sue made the Cheerios fluent on First Aid._

_Santana, on her knees, patted Brittany's pants and searched for her phone. Doug had taken away her own when he forced them into the car, but he didn't take Brittany's— he didn't know that Will and Emma had gotten one for her._

9_, Santana shakily pressed a button. _1, 1_._

_"Lima PD Communication Center, what is your emergency?"_

_"We had a car accident," she told the lady at the other end of the line. "We're at Faurot Park."_

_"Alright. What's your name sweetheart?"_

_"Santana," she rolled her eyes because she didn't see why her name was important. "My friend is unconscious. She hurt her head but I think she's okay. She doesn't have anymore wounds. I checked. Her heartbeat is steady and so is her breathing."_

_"Good job, Santana. What about you? Are you hurt?"_

_"I don't know. My sides hurt but that's mostly it. I think I got a cut somewhere on my head but I don't think it's bad."_

_"Alright. I want you to stay where you are, okay? Don't move around. We're on our way."_

_"Okay."_

_"Do you want me to stay on the phone with you?"_

_Santana gave her answer a thought before settling with a, "no, thank you," before she hung up. She really didn't have the energy for a small talk with a stranger on the phone. _

_Just when she was about to lean on her tree out of exhaustion, Santana heard a faint grunt. It was then when she realized that she had been forgetting something— or rather, someone. _

_Doug was lying on the ground not far from them. His hat was discarded not far from his feet and it had splatters of blood._

_The man was on his back, letting out noises that reminded Santana of a coughing doberman. Judging from where he was, the shimmer from tiny fragments of glass all over his body and the fact that the car windshield was completely gone, he was thrown out of the car and landed on that spot right there._

_"Help," he wheezed, and Santana watched the man as he continued with his weak groans._

_Her blood boiled. How dare he asked for help when Brittany must've gone throughout countless number of nights when she begged for it, and was given nothing but brutality?_

_She mustered all the strength she had left and got on her feet. Every step she took was like jabbing her sides with a million needles, but no way in hell was she going to crawl to him._

_She towered over him, looking down. He was looking back at her with a plea for compassion and mercy. There was blood all over his face from the glass and from the funny shape of his right leg, it looked like his knee was dislocated. His right hand was clutching the fabric covering his left in such way that it was easy to tell he was in tons of pain. _Santana wondered what he had felt while he was flying through the window. Did his life flash before him? Did he think about Brittany? Did he pray to God and ask for forgiveness?__

_She kneeled beside him and grabbed the gun that was lying next to his face._

_"Scary, isn't it?" she asked him the same question that he had asked her just a few moments ago and dragged the end of the barrel along the edges of his face. "You should've thought this through, Mr. Geoffrey. Didn't anybody ever tell you to always, always wear your seatbelt?"_

_"Please," he said, with terrified eyes. Never in a million years had he ever imagined the tables to turn like this. He had always thought that he was the invincible one. That he would always be on the upper hand, instead of held hostage by a teenage girl. "Help me," he tried again._

_Doug's hand moved from his arm to clutch his chest, and Santana knew it wasn't only from his injuries. When he suddenly turned purple under the dim moonlight, she gritted her teeth and tossed the gun a few feet away. _

_"Fuck you," she told the man who was losing his consciousness._

oOoOo

"Santana?" Emma's eyes widened when she saw movement from the bed. She turned her head to see how Brittany was doing— hoping that she, too, was gaining consciousness— but the blonde girl was still in a deep sleep. "Santana, can you hear me?"

"...ny," Santana swallowed with her eyes scrunched shut, like it was the most painful thing to do.

Emma stood up and took Santana's hand in hers. "What's that, sweetie? Can you say it again?"

Slowly, Santana's eyes started to open. She cleared her throat. "Brittany?"

"She's right over there, honey," Emma smiled. She pointed at the next bed and Santana followed her hand with her eyes.

"OK, good," Santana hummed.

When Santana moved to sit up, Emma stopped her by gently putting a hand on her left shoulder blade.

"Don't move yet," the red-haired woman said. "You have broken ribs from the crash. They added painkillers in your drip so you're not in a lot of pain right now, but I doubt you'd want to know what it feels like when it hurts. At least, not now anyway."

The girl blinked a couple of times before she nodded and got herself lying back down on the bed.

Emma handed her a remote for the bed. "Press this button if you want to sit up," she said pointing at a picture of an arrow, which Santana then pressed with her thumb. Once she saw Santana was in a comfortable position, Emma grabbed an extra pillow from the sofa bed that the nurse had prepared and propped it right under the young girl's head. "Good?"

Santana nodded. "Yeah. Thanks."

Santana spent the next few minutes listening to Emma as she described all her injuries. As it turned out, there were more injuries on (and in) her body than she had imagined. They weren't _that_ bad, but still... hearing them as a list was kind of overwhelming. The woman tried her best to make jokes about them, but she was failing miserably because she kept pausing and fanning her eyes so she wouldn't cry.

There was some sort of a tug felt by Santana— right on the heart. The kind of feeling that makes you feel like you're being yanked from under the ground. She couldn't really tell if it was the drugs doing it to her (she had learned, from a party she went to with Puck, that she was a sobbing, hysterical drunk), if it was just a reaction of hearing how badly wounded her body was, or if it was because Emma was literally crying for her.

Okay, that was a lie. She knew it was because of the tears falling from the woman's eyes.

Suddenly, the door opened and in came Will with a pale face and red-rimmed eyes. He looked like he was going to pass out from alcohol, except the way that he stood (all straight and unswerving) told Santana otherwise.

"Santana!" Will pointed a finger at her, walking hurriedly towards her bed.

There was a tone seeping underneath his angry voice that Santana couldn't decipher yet and fury in his eyes, and for the first time in her life, Santana was scared of Will Schuester. She could hear herself choking on the very air that she was trying to inhale when she saw Will's arms raised like he was going to hit her out of anger. So when that hit didn't happen, and when it turned into a gentle hug, she was shocked– in a completely good way.

"Don't you _ever_ do that to us again," Will cried, trying hard to keep his voice down so that the other injured girl in the room wouldn't wake up. "You could've gotten killed. Both of you."

"I'm sorry," Santana muttered.

"You should've told us," Will pulled back. "You _could_ have told us."

Santana shook her head and turned her head to look at a still sleeping Brittany. "That wasn't an option at the moment."

Will and Emma followed her gaze and looked at each other. Both of them already knew Santana's answer before she said it, but somehow the confirmation elated and broke their hearts at the same time. They were once again reminded of all the things that Sue had told them— how painful Brittany's life was in Doug's custody, and how Santana was single-handedly trying to mend her, piece by piece.

"How long until we're free to go?" Santana tried to change the subject and asked the Schuesters quietly. She knew hospital bills are expensive. Between the $300 IV bags and room charges, there was no way two teachers' salary would cover the expenses for both her and Brittany. She should've thought things over before she flipped that car. "As soon as I get out, I'll get a job. I'll pay you back somehow."

Emma smiled at her. "Don't worry about it, Santana."

"But—"

"Stop," Will looked at her pointedly. "We appreciate the offer, but I don't want you to worry about anything. It's taken care of. What you need to do now is focus on getting better. Your ribs aren't going to heal if you insist on working," he gave her a pat on the head.

"Okay," Santana finally gave up. Then she looked up at Will. "What about... How is he?" asked Santana. She wished she didn't have to care so much about the evil man, but she had to ask.

Will shook his head. "He didn't make it."

"Oh..."

"Hey," Emma sat back down on the bed and got rid of rebellious strands of hair from Santana's face. "We're so proud of you."

Santana scrunched her face. "For what?"

"They told us that when the paramedics got there, you were giving him CPR to keep him alive," said the woman softly.

"Well, he ended up dead anyway."

Emma pursed her lips. "Concerning the situation, and what he had put Brittany through, even _I _wouldn't have been so nice to him."

Santana looked down and played with the edges of her hospital blanket. "I didn't think I'd do it either."

"What changed?" asked Will. He mimicked his wife and sat on the other side of the bed.

"I don't know, I just... I guess I wanted him to live," Santana shrugged impatiently. "Could we not talk about this right now? My head is spinning. I think I need some sleep."

The Schuesters looked at each other and Santana thought it was a) ridiculous, and b) somewhat agonizing how they simultaneously sighed. She knew they could tell she was building her walls back up and she felt bad about it. They were involuntarily thrown into a situation that neither had the slightest suspicion over.

"I'm sorry," she offered an apology. "I didn't mean to sound so harsh. I'm telling the truth when I said I have a headache."

"It's fine," Will gave her a small smile and patted her knee gently. He turned to Emma and told her he was going to talk a little bit more with Sue. To Santana's surprise, Emma didn't insist on staying in the room with her. The woman simply told her that she was going to be outside and give an update on hers and Brittany's conditions to Puck, Quinn and Mercedes, who apparently refused to go home before everything was sorted out.

"Just so you know," Will said, looking over his shoulder from the door and with a soft but mischievous smile on his lips, "you're grounded."

Santana rolled her eyes, but she didn't wait until Will turned around again to give him a smile.

oOoOo

**May 8, 2010, 12:20PM**

When she woke up, Santana thanked the universe that it wasn't because of any kind of pain. Instead, somewhere in her dreamless sleep, she could hear what she deemed to be the most wonderful sound of all: Brittany's laughter.

As soon as she opened her eyes, she could see Brittany talking animatedly to Quinn and Mercedes, laughing like she was just a regular 16-year-old girl and nothing bad could ever harm her, and it soothed her soul tremendously.

Brittany saw her move from the corner of her eyes and she greeted her first. "Morning, sleepyhead," she smirked.

"Morning, B," Santana smiled back. "Hey, Q, Cedes."

"How are you feeling, Santana?" asked Quinn. Both her and Mercedes were sitting on chairs that were occupying the space between her bed and Brittany's. It was as if they were building a bridge for them, and honestly, she liked it.

Santana stretched her neck left and right slowly before answering. "My head still feels a bit heavy, but it's much better."

"It'll wear off," Brittany told her. "My head was the same but the nurse told me it was partly the injury, and partly meds."

Santana nodded. That made sense. She grabbed the bed remote and pressed the button that Emma had shown her earlier to bring the top half of her bed higher. "How are you guys?"

"We're good. We were worried sick about you, but we're good," Mercedes answered for both of them. "We went home this morning, took showers and all and we just got back."

Santana scrunched her eyes. "What do you mean 'this morning'? What time is it now?"

Quinn pushed the fabric on her wrist to look at her watch. "It's 12.20," she said.

"What? What time did _you_ wake up?"

Brittany tilted her head and tried to remember. "About 9. Quinn and Mercedes came around 11."

"Why didn't you guys wake me up?"

"We didn't want to," Mercedes answered. "You looked like you could use the rest."

Quinn was quick to follow. "Yeah. Besides we were having fun watching the drool leaking from your mouth."

Santana's eyes widened and used the back of her hand to wipe her mouth— it was dry. She realized that she was duped but it was too late. The other 3 girls were already laughing at her.

"Funny," she squinted her eyes. "Veeery funny. I hope you know this means I hate you all."

Brittany laughed and winced shortly after. Her head was really hating her right now. "We love you too, Santana," she said with a little too much affection that Santana started to blush because... well, she loved her too. Except... she didn't know whether or not Brittany felt the same, since they haven't had the chance to talk about that kiss at all.

Mercedes and Quinn shared a look and subtly smiled understandingly. It wasn't hard to figure out what was really going on. They were sure that even if they eliminated all things Doug, it was clear that Santana and Brittany loved each other so much, that the word 'love' was simply not enough.

Suddenly Santana remembered something. "Quinn! Oh my God. I'm so, _so_ sorry about your car. I—"

"Santana," Quinn held up a hand to shush the Latina. "It's fine. It's taken care of."

"What?" Santana looked at her friend, then to Brittany (who shrugged and shook her head), to Mercedes (who did the same thing as Brittany) then back to Quinn. "Who keeps taking care of everything around here? Sue?"

Quinn shook her head. "Not Sue. Well, at least not for my car." She turned to look at Brittany. "It was Nancy. She gave me a check and everything— I wasn't gonna take it, but she practically shoved it into my hands."

"Nancy?" Brittany's eyes widened. "She was here?"

"She was," nodded Quinn. "She wanted to stay longer last night, but you guys were still asleep and she said she had to take care of something and come back later."

Brittany blinked several times. For some reason the information was hard to take in. Nancy came back, but then she went away again saying she was going to return... again? It all seemed too familiar.

oOoOo

**May 9, 2010, 15:10PM**

"You're healing nicely, Brittany," smiled the nurse as she adjusted the drip count of Brittany's last bag of IV. It had been two days since the girls got admitted, and this particular nurse had been assigned to them. Brittany liked her. Her name was Shari and she had blonde hair just like her. "Must be all the young genes in you, hon."

"Oh..." Brittany scrunched her face, looking all confused. "But I haven't bought a new pair of jeans in forever... They're all old."

The nurse laughed out loud. Her shoulders were shaking uncontrollably and it made Brittany smile— though she wasn't sure what was so funny about her old jeans.

"You teenage girls are too much," the lady chuckled, wiping some tears from her right eye. "The other day, your friend Santana told one of the new male nurses to go practice his "needle sticking skills on a manatee" – among other things— because apparently, he couldn't find her vein and poked her with the syringe 3 times before he got it right. He came into the break room crying! Oh my God it was hilarious," she flicked the drip chamber with her middle finger. "Especially because he had a crush on your friend and bragged about his _strategy_ to turn her into his girlfriend."

Brittany shook her head and smiled. "Yeah, that sounds like Santana. Where is she, by the way? She was gone when I woke up."

"Oh, don't you worry, honey," the nurse patted her on the shoulder. "She just had to do some more tests and x-rays before you go home tomorrow. Those ribs were badly broken, you know. That accident was quite a crash. I'm surprised _you_ aren't hurt as bad— not that I would want you to," she held up both her arms. "You know, I've heard the rumors. I knew what happened."

Brittany swallowed. Even though she knew the people that mattered had already learned the truth, she didn't want the whole town to know about it. "Rumors? Like what?"

"That man who died? He was trying to kidnap you both, didn't he? People are saying he ambushed you at school and all," the nurse shrugged. "The medics also told us that Santana saved you both AND tried to save that man. She's like a regular Supergirl or sumthin'."

As if on cue, Santana was wheeled into the room by another nurse, fresh from her tests and x-rays. The door bumped into the wall and made a soft thud that made Brittany look. Santana looked so tired. She had bags under her eyes and limp, unwashed hair, and when she got up to climb onto her bed, she did it very slowly because her sides were still hurting. It made her look like she was a 70-year-old lady instead of 17 years old.

Santana gave her a weak wave and a smile from her bed and Brittany wished she could return it with a hug. Although, judging from Santana's state right then, it was probably unwise for her to smother her with affection. Unless Brittany wanted to add to the pain she was experiencing.

Brittany turned her head around to look at her nurse and gave her a grin. "She is. She's always been my superhero."

"Well, looks like your superhero's ready to sleep," the nurse jerked her head at Santana who already had her blanket all the way up to her neck while the other nurse injected something into her IV.

Shari lowered her voice. "I better go now so she could get some rest. Let me put your bag here on this chair so you can reach it. Maybe they packed you a book or something so you won't get bored."

"Okay," Brittany nodded. "Thank you."

"You're welcome, baby cakes," said the nurse before she got out of the room. "Press the button if you need me, okay?"

Brittany nodded. Shari was so nice, she figured she should draw a picture and dedicate it to the woman before they leave the next day. Like maybe... a super pretty picture of Shari in front of the hospital with a rainbow in the sky— oh and Santana and herself looking all healthy again. Yeah, that would be nice.

Brittany looked over to Santana, just to check how she was doing, before she reached into the bag to maybe find her crayons— or anything, really, to get her a head start on Shannon's drawing. If they weren't in the bag, then maybe Quinn had put in some pens and paper inside.

_A-ha!_

She pulled out a thick composition notebook, and it looked like it was Santana's.

Actually, it _was_ obviously Santana's. It says on its cover, _"Property of Santana Lopez. Don't make me cut you."_

Brittany contemplated her choices. Clearly, Santana didn't want anybody to read the contents. But if Brittany could just open it backwards and tear the last page of the book without looking at the first one, it would be okay, right?

Wrong.

Santana had been using the book from the back to the front, writing on the last page first. Brittany figured it was because she wanted to keep her secrets and it was all there, laid bare on the page.

Brittany closed the book again hurriedly and took a deep breath. For a while she couldn't figure out if she was more impressed by Santana's thinking, or nervous about all the letters scribbled on the pages. All she wanted to find out about Santana were there. All she had to do was read the words, and she would be reading Santana. Santana's thoughts. Santana's heart.

"You can read it," said the girl on the other bed with a sleepy voice. "I asked Quinn to get the book so you can read it."

Brittany turned her head. "But... this is..."

"I know," Santana smiled weakly. Whatever it was they put in her IV was doing its job of making her super drowsy. "I know your secrets. Now you'll know mine— but only if you want to."

Brittany looked at the book in her hands with hesitation. She wasn't going to lie, she really did want to know everything about Santana. But to read it from a book that Santana had been hiding all her life? It felt really wrong.

"I want to... but are you sure you want me to read it?" Brittany looked up. "Are you sure it's not just the drugs talking?"

Santana, with the very little energy she had left that afternoon, chuckled. "I'm sure. And later, after you're done, I'll even let you ask me questions if you want."

"Wow," Brittany breathed. Somewhere deep inside, she felt like a little girl at a county fair who just won a giant stuffed animal. "Okay, I'll—"

Her sentence was cut short when she turned to look at Santana again. The other girl was already in dreamland, with her blanket pulled up to her neck and 2 pillows supporting her head— just how she loved it.

The blonde girl spent a few seconds watching her best friend sleep before she started reading the first page. The handwriting looked funny and Brittany was confused because she remembered what Santana's handwriting looked like. But then she read the date on top and she realized that Santana had been keeping the book since a long time ago.

**_10-27-2002_**

_I'm all alone._

_..._

**_10-29-2002_**

_They gave me a new dress. It's black. It's too big and it smells funny and I wore it to church today._

_I sat in front of a box and a picture of daddy. They wouldn't let me see him but I know he's in there._

_All the neighbors were there and they treat me like I'm 5. They look at me like I'm some lost puppy dog in a cardboard box on the side of the street. They keep saying they're sorry for me. They keep telling me to be strong and stuff. _

_I don't like it._

_Whatever. They'll leave me alone soon._

_..._

**_11-5-2002_**

_I don't like these kids._

_The big ones are scary and the small ones are noisy._

_And they all think they're special because they don't have parents._

_When are they gonna learn that they're nothing?_

_Just like me._

_..._

**_11-8-2002_**

_I didn't get a new bike for my birthday._

_I didn't get a cake either._

_..._

Brittany took a long, deep breath and exhaled slowly through her mouth after reading that last one. Little Santana made her chest feel all heavy like she was going to cry anytime soon. Yes, Brittany had lost her parents and sister, but she was older when it happened and it was to an accident. Santana, however, lost her dad because he committed suicide— Emma had told Brittany to stay away from the topic when she first joined the Schuester household— and Brittany could only imagine how bad it had hurt a barely 9-year-old Santana.

It took her about an hour to read about 1/3 of the book (Santana wrote a lot) and she learned a lot about her best friend's past. Santana had told her stories about the group home, the various kids she had met there, the staff and all that, but never once did she mentioned about her feelings while she was there. So Brittany treasured every line that she had written on the pages, and everything between them. She flipped, flipped, flipped the page and read all the entries and memorized it by heart, especially the dates that mattered. For example:

**_06-10-05_**

_She's like a super bright sun and I can't stand it._

_..._

Brittany smiled to herself. That first entry was written the day after Maria dropped her off at Will and Emma's place and she remembered her first day too well. She remembered going up to their room to find Santana all distraught, looking like she was about to barf. Two weeks later they got into a one-sided fight that ended up with Santana crying into her shoulders.

**_06-23-05_**

_I cried my ass off today and it was super embarrassing._

_I thought I lost her._

_Never knew she mattered._

_..._

**_07-17-05_**

_I did a lot yesterday. _

_Climbed a tree, Saved a cat, hid it in the basement, took Brittany to the basement to sneak the cat into our room. _

_Also found my magic._

_P.S. I hate that cat's guts._

_..._

Brittany chuckled reading the part about Lord Tubbington. If she had read the entry back then, she would've been worried about Santana's relationship with the cat. But now, she had no doubt whatsoever that her best friend loved the cat almost as much as she did— though Santana would rather be dead then admitting to it.

Just when Brittany was about to read more of the pages, she heard a creak from the door.

"Oh," the girl said, blinking several times to the sight in front of her. Her stepmom really looked different with dyed hair. "Hi..."

"Hi, Brittany," said Nancy. "How are you feeling, honey?"

"What are you doing here?" asked Brittany, completely ignoring her stepmom's question. She didn't mean to be rude— after all, it _was_ Nancy, and Nancy was a good woman.

Nancy smiled tight-lipped and looked at a sleeping Santana. "Is she alright?"

Brittany shrugged. "She's still in pain, but she's alright."

Nancy nodded, still with pursed lips. "Good, good," she said. She took a deep breath before she walked past Santana's bed towards Brittany's. "I need to talk to you, but," she looked over her shoulder at Santana. "I don't want to wake her up."

Brittany squinted her eyes at Nancy. She tried to read the woman's face in case there was a hidden agenda behind her request, but she couldn't find any. "I can get the nurse to bring me a wheelchair? But you're not going to push me out of here, right?"

"No, no," Nancy shook her head. "We'll just wheel around, or find an empty corner or something. If you don't trust me, which I... completely understand if you don't... the nurse can come with us."

The young girl nodded once. "Okay," she said and pressed a button on her remote. "Let me get Shari."

The blonde nurse eyed Nancy up and down suspiciously when she arrived. "You try anything funny and I'll make sure you'll get it," she threatened.

Brittany had to bite the inside of her cheek to prevent her from laughing, because Shari's protectiveness reminded her so much of Santana. She felt bad for Nancy about it, sure, but Shari was just looking out for her.

Once Brittany explained that Nancy was only looking to talk to her, Shari agreed to wheel Brittany to a quiet corner near the vending machine. She said there were chairs there for Nancy to sit on, but secretly Brittany thought it was because the corner was visible from the nurse's break room and nowhere near an exit.

"I waited for you," Brittany said after a few moments of silence. "Every morning I'd stare outside the window wishing it was you who was driving up the street. Every afternoon, after school, I'd wish so hard that you would be picking me up instead of another one of his drivers. You know,"

"Brittany..."

"You shouldn't make promises you can't keep."

Nancy sniffled. "I'm so sorry, baby. You know I love you very much. I'm so sorry for not coming back to you sooner. I tried to, really, I did. But I was so afraid to go back there. Every time I drove to that street, I'd just turn around again because... what if he saw me? What if he beats me up again? Please, Brittany," she grabbed Brittany's hand. "I need you to forgive me."

Brittany sighed. "I was never angry at you for leaving. I was there. I know what he did to you and I wish he never did those things. To be honest, I was glad you moved out because I didn't want him to hurt you anymore," she huffed and pulled her hand out of Nancy's. "I'm not angry, but it doesn't mean I'm not disappointed. But if you want to hear the words, then here they are: _I forgive you_."

Meanwhile, in room 315, Santana opened her eyes to find Quinn staring at her. She jumped, thinking her friend was an intruder. The blonde girl was very lucky she was out of Santana's reach. A few inch closer, her nose would've gotten acquainted with Santana's fist.

"God, Quinn!" Santana held a hand to her chest. "Could you _be _any creepier?!"

Quinn laughed at her friend's antics. "Oh, please. The fact that I'm staring at you from a safe distance alone should tell you that I know you that well. Any other creep would just hover and you would've broken their nose."

Santana scrunched her face. "That doesn't even sound like a defense. Do you even have a point?"

The blonde girl tilted her head and recited what she had just said silently before she shook her head. "Nope," she grinned. "I guess I didn't."

Quinn dragged her chair closer to the bed and gave Santana a teddy bear dressed in a Cheerio uniform. "It's from the team. They're worried about you. They wanted to drop by but I told them not to— at least not now. I didn't think you could handle the whole squad in this room."

Santana smiled at her friend. "Yeah, thanks for that. I mean, I _do_ want to tell them thanks, but I just know that once my meds wear off, I'm gonna be a bitch to them."

"Well, they're already used to that so..." Quinn smirked and shrugged her shoulders.

Santana rolled her eyes and ignored Quinn's comment. "Any particular reason you're here, Fabray?"

"Just wondering how you guys are," the blonde smiled sweetly. "I know Mr. & Mrs. Schue aren't gonna be here cause they have that teacher meeting thing, and Puck has football. I just don't want you to be alone."

"I'm not alone. Brittany's here," Santana turned to look at Brittany, only to find an empty bed and her notebook placed on the pillow. "Oh... I thought she was here. Do you know where she went?"

Quinn shook her head. "No. When I got here she was already gone. But I'm sure she's just getting tests done or something," she tried to reassure Santana. "Doug is dead, San. You don't have to worry anymore."

Santana looked down and fiddled with her fingers. She knew Quinn was right. Doug was dead and there was no way his men were still after them. What was the point?

"I guess so," she tried to smile. She still felt uneasy about not knowing where Brittany was.

Quinn chuckled. _This is too easy_, she thought.

"What?" Santana scrunched her eyebrows.

"Never thought there would come a day when I would say this, but," Quinn titled her head. "You're cute."

"Um," Santana cleared her throat. "Is this some kind of a weird come on or something? Cause, no offense, Q, but you're not my type."

"I know," Quinn smirked. "My eyes are hazel."

"Huh? Come again?"

"Your type. Blonde hair, blue eyes. Mine are hazel."

Just like that, Santana felt her heart dropped. She didn't think people knowing about her loving Brittany would be such a big deal, but now that Quinn had ambushed her with the million dollar answer, Santana was suddenly worried. About a lot of things, actually. About how people would think of her, for example, even though she knew perfectly well that she shouldn't pay them any attention. About that 'talk' Brittany would surely want to have with her sometime after they were released from the hospital. And most importantly, about the fact that she was actually admitting it— that she _loved._

"How?" asked Santana quietly.

"I don't know, I just," Quinn shrugged. "It wasn't hard to see at all. Maybe I have an advantage of being your friend, I know your history and all that, and I _am_ kinda really good at reading you... but even the people who aren't that close to you... one look at you now and they'd know how much you care about her. I mean, anybody could say they'd die for their best friend. But to _actually _be ready when the time comes?"

Santana bit her lip. Quinn was spot on when she said she was never half-assed when it came to Brittany's well-being.

"Hey," Quinn gently touched Santana's arm, concerned about how Santana's face just lost its colors.

"I..." Santana looked up and met Quinn's eyes. Her brain was torturing itself finding some words to say but, ultimately, it failed her. "Quinn," she finally sighed and buried her face in both hands. "What am I gonna do?"

Quinn raised an eyebrow. "What are you gonna do about what? Santana, in case you're wondering, I have no problems with that. And I bet the people around you— the ones that matter— won't either."

"No, I know _that_. And thank you, by the way," Santana tried to smile, albeit nervously.

"Then what's the problem?"

Santana scratched an imaginary itch on her forehead and hissed when she accidentally grazed a cut. "I don't know," she answered frustratedly.

That was a lie. She knew exactly what it was about. And of course, Quinn could see through her.

"I think I know what it is," Quinn crossed her legs, leaned forward in her chair and rested her chin on her right hand. "It's about your parents, isn't it? About your dad?Santana, I know it's hard, but you gotta stop doing it to yourself. You can't keep on thinking people are going to leave you because, you know what? Brittany isn't going to."

"You don't know that."

"Ah, but I do," smiled the blonde girl. "Don't tell me you can't you see it."

"See what?"

"How much she loves you too."

* * *

><p><em><strong>AN:** one more and we're done. Or maybe two. It depends on how well my brain functions this next week. :) Oh and I know there are some unanswered things in this chapter (like why Santana helped Doug because i mean, wuuuttt?!) but I'll address those stuff in the next one :)_

_Message for the rebels:_

_**Payton:** LMAO! I didn't realize I have that kind of power xD (also, please don't die yet...)_

_**NYABG:** Aaah you're too kind x) x) And yaaay angst! I mean, this hiatus is boring so I thought I should step it up, right?_

_**Guest:** Well Vanessa said Sugar's moms are gonna be okay, so... I'mma gonna believe her for now :))_

_**K:** Well you're in luck because this chapter's not the end! lol._


	34. Everything

After the initial topic, things started to wind down a little bit between Nancy and Brittany. They had moved on to talking about Nancy's life after she left Tennessee. Which was good, because frankly Brittany was tired of all the crying. Doug was gone. Why should there be anymore crying, right?

Right from the very beginning, it seemed like Nancy was trying her best to gain Brittany's trust back. She told the blue-eyed girl her story even before Brittany asked questions. As it turned out, Nancy had been living with her sister in Lima. She mentioned a name – Todd – and Brittany immediately remembered the boy who used to be her tutor.

"They found Todd's old records and that was how Mr. Schuester and Ms. Sylvester found me," Nancy explained. Her tired eyes managed a twinkle as she remembered the night before. But then they grew dim again. "They told me Doug had taken you away and if I might've known somewhere he'd go. Of course I told them that his safest place was Johnson City because he had power there. But then Ms. Sylvester received a call from the Sheriff about your friend Quinn's car," she took a pause. "Did you know that Santana violated every single red light? Did Doug ask her to do it?"

Brittany shook her head. She really didn't remember Doug ever telling Santana to specifically run through the red lights. Just to step on it. "No. I don't think so."

"Wow," Nancy said under her breath. "She came up with the idea herself?"

"I guess," shrugged Brittany, but still with furrowed brows. "Why?"

"Nothing, it's just... that was a _very_ good idea," Nancy shook her head in amazement. "I was told that _that_ was the only reason they were able to find the car so fast– the precinct got reports about a speeding car last night. They have you on cameras too. Imagine their surprise when they saw a man pointing a gun at a teenage girl on the front seat."

Brittany felt her heart swell with pride. She had always been in awe by Santana's clever mind, but this one took the cake. _Now_ she knew why it only took them less then 10 minutes to get from the school to the park, instead of the usual 15.

"Brittany," Nancy's voice, and the woman's hand that had moved to envelope her own, pulled Brittany from her daze. "I'm going to have to take care of some things in Tennessee. I have to talk to the lawyers, the bank, the school... I have to handle his—"

"I'm not going to his funeral," Brittany cut Nancy's speech short. "I'm not."

"I know," Nancy squeezed Brittany's hand to calm her down. "And it's okay. I don't expect you to go. But _I _ have to do it. He was my husband and, even though it's hard to believe, there was a point in my life when I was really happy," she let go of Brittany's hand and caressed a spot on her ring finger that used to be a living space for a white gold band and smiled sadly to herself.

Brittany sighed internally. She wondered if it were true. If there _was _a period when Nancy was happily married to the same man who had beaten her up so badly that she almost died repeatedly.

"I'm sorry you lost your husband," Brittany finally said and Nancy gave her a smile because Brittany, although not particularly bright when it comes to school subjects, possessed a wisdom like no other 17-year-old girl does. She wasn't sorry because Doug was dead, but she was sorry because Nancy had lost her _husband_; the man who once promised to cherish her forever and after in front of a priest.

Nancy cleared her throat. "So, uh, I won't be here for a while... but I'll be back." she grimaced. The situation honestly stirred up some kind of a deja vu within her and she started to feel guilty for something she wasn't even going to do.

Apparently Brittany felt the familiarity too.

"You don't have to if you don't want to," the young girl said. She couldn't help but feel prematurely disappointed.

"No, I will. I promise you I will this time. I've talked to my sister about it. I'm going to move here permanently," said Nancy, looking straight into Brittany's eyes so that she knew how much she meant every word. "Nothing– No one's stopping me now. I'm going to get a house, a job like I've always dreamed about, and..." she trailed off, tucking an invisible strand of hair behind her ear. "And I was wondering... when I get back... would you like to stay being my daughter?"

oOoOo

"No, Q. You don't know that either," Santana shook her head. "You don't know _her_. She's Brittany. She loves everything and everyone. Just because she kissed me ba—" Santana covered her lips.

_Shit._

"She what?!" Quinn exclaimed, then squealed. "Santana, when?!"

"I..." Santana stuttered. "She..."

"Santana, out with it!"

"I... fine!" Santana huffed. She could practically feel the pink shade of embarrassment creeping up her face. She squeezed her eyes shut and let out a long exhale before answering Quinn's questions. "It happened when we were in the locker room. After Doug left, and you guys were in the hallway, she was having one of her... panic attacks... and I couldn't bring her back. I thought if I waited long enough she'd wake up, but the whole thing felt like forever," she choked back a sob. _Never again_, Santana thought. Never again would she let that happen to Brittany.

"I was so afraid for her. I kept thinking; what if she's trapped forever in that world, you know? She was looking at me, but her mind was seeing something else. All she could see was _him_, and she kept asking him why he was doing it to her. She was asking him why he didn't love her and I just," Santana took a deep breath and felt an encouraging squeeze on her hand from Quinn's own. "I just lost it. I had to tell her that she's loved. Because she _is_."

"So you kissed her?"

"So I kissed her," Santana nodded.

"And you brought her back," Quinn deduced with tears in her eyes. God, she hated that she was such a sucker for these kinds of stories. Although, perhaps if it wasn't Santana's and Brittany's story, her chest wouldn't have felt as tight as right now.

"I couldn't at first, and I almost gave up. But then... she kissed me back," Santana said the last part under her breath like she just realized how magical the kiss had felt on her lips. But she regrouped and continued when she saw Quinn was about to squeal again. "But she wasn't fully _there_ yet when she kissed me, so I don't know how she really feels."

Right on cue, the door opened to reveal Brittany, with Shari wheeling her into the room.

"Hey, Quinn," Brittany gave the other blonde girl a small wave from her wheelchair and it earned her a big, gentle hug from Quinn.

"Hey Britt. How are you feeling?"

"Okay," Brittany shrugged. "I just can't wait until tomorrow. I'm so bored here."

Quinn smiled at the pout Brittany was sporting. Puck was right. It was too adorable– the kind of adorable the makes you want to buy all the candy in the world for. The kind of adorable that makes you want to take care of it forever. And if _she_ was feeling that way, she couldn't imagine what Santana must feel every time she looked at Brittany. Must be one overwhelming feeling.

"Mercedes wanted me to give you this," Quinn reached into her bag and handed Brittany a brown paper bag .

"Oh my god!" Brittany exclaimed as she pulled the content out. "This is so cool! Look, San!"

Santana looked at what Brittany was holding up in the air and smiled. It was a cheap MP3 player bought at a Walgreens, pre-recorded with Mercedes' renditions of various popular songs. "Her recordings! Remember when I asked her about it yesterday? Aaah... this is so awesome!"

Santana chuckled and watched as Shari pushed her best friend's wheelchair towards the bed. Seeing Brittany laugh was just too precious to not appreciate.

After making sure that Brittany was nice and comfy in her bed, Shari left the room, leaving the three teenage girls alone to catch up and Santana, hearing the door clicked shut, finally realized that she had been looking at Brittany a tad too long. Of course, Quinn was really amused at how _subtle _Santana was being. Luckily, the girl with the hazel eyes knew better than to make a big deal out of it. She got up and announced her departure instead.

"Alright, I'm gonna just leave you two girls alone," she smirked at Santana (she gave Quinn one of her signature eye rolls) and then smiled sweetly at Brittany. "See you, Britt."

"Bye, Quinn," waved Brittany. "Thanks for coming."

"Bye, San," Quinn swung her bag onto her shoulder. "Find out for me, okay?" she winked.

Brittany caught the weird request and furrowed her eyebrows. "Find out about what?"

Quinn, without even looking over her shoulder as she walked through the door, answered. "Ask Santana. Bye, girls!"

Santana's eyes widened at this and she made a mental note to kick Quinn in the shin _really _hard the next time they met. She took a few seconds before turning her head around to give Brittany an explanation. She even contemplated to maybe just lay everything on the line right then and there. But the moment she laid her eyes on Brittany, the blonde girl already had earphones stuffed in her ears. Brittany gave her an excited smiled and thumbs up as she listened to Mercedes' powerful voice and Santana just couldn't do it.

For the first time in so long, Brittany could finally breathe freely and enjoy being a girl without an anchor drowning her to the bottom of the sea.

So she was going to let her be free.

oOoOo

Four days after being released from the hospital, it was business as usual at the Schuesters. Will, Emma and Puck kept going to school as usual, leaving the two girls with no supervision, as it was Final exams time and none of them could afford missing any of those days.

Santana was an exception, though. Under the doctor's recommendation, she had to stay at home with minimal movement in order for her ribs to heal properly. They were broken at multiple locations and with that reason, Sue had asked (ordered, actually) all of the McKinley High's teachers to let Santana take her tests at home. Since it was Sue, and Sue _always_ got what she wanted one way or the other, they all agreed to the request.

Every night Will and Emma came home with a stack of paper for the injured girl. Some were quizzes, some were tests, and some were copies of handwritten notes from either Quinn or Mercedes. Santana would sometimes find little scribbles on Quinn's pages that said, _"did you find out yet?"_ or, _"don't forget B loves you too,"_ or something else equally distracting– and encouraging at the same time.

Every time she saw those notes, she felt a little butterfly grazing the insides of her stomach and she knew that she needed to do what Quinn wanted.

First thing's first, though. She needed to let Brittany in.

She wondered to herself, whenever she wasn't busy memorizing, or whenever she wasn't doing a test under Emma's or Will's supervision, _in on what?_

But who was she kidding? She had always known the answer.

_Everything._

oOoOo

Unlike Santana, Brittany didn't have school. She wasn't as occupied as Santana was. In fact, she had been trying to keep herself busy so she wouldn't be a bother, knowing that her best friend would forget all her schoolwork to keep her company. So, aside from continuing reading Santana's notebook, Brittany spent her time helping around the house, taking on Santana's chores too as the other girl couldn't lift heavy things such as a full laundry basket.

That wasn't all, though. Brittany was also using a lot of her time to force herself to be around Will longer. She had been feeling a little bit guilty because her horrifying experience with Doug made it almost impossible for her to trust Will completely. Now that Doug was no longer a threat, she made a promise to herself to make an effort. So sometimes she'd strike up a conversation with the Spanish teacher. Other times she'd watch him grade papers and try to be okay with the silence. One time, she even tagged along with him to the grocery store, ridding her thoughts of the fear that he might take her away with the car– just like how Doug had done it years ago.

It was hard, she wasn't gonna deny it, but it was definitely easier than before.

* * *

><p><em>"Emma and I had a call with Nancy the other day," Will brought his coffee cup closer to his mouth and blew on the steam. It was just the two of them in the living room that night. Puck went out with his friends and Emma was upstair, keeping an eye on Santana as the girl took an exam. "She said you needed time?"<em>

_Brittany nodded._

_"Well, in case you're wondering, you're welcome to stay here as long as you want," said Will after sipping his coffee, offering the girl a warm smile._

_Brittany returned the smile. "Thank you. I'll pay you back."_

_"That's not necessary," Will held up a hand. "Brittany, you need to know that even if Nancy had chosen to not reimburse us, our decision's not going to change. Emma and I love you, and we'll make sure you are taken care of. Okay?"_

* * *

><p>When she wasn't busy getting reacquainted with Will, Brittany spent the rest of her free time watching Santana catch up with the rest of her life– tests, exams... even extra Cheerios administration tasks from Sue just because she was in no condition to twirl batons or do backflips– and she was pleasantly shocked when Santana didn't complain (not even once!) about all the things she was asked to do.<p>

Brittany wanted to take the credit and tell the world that it was because Santana was happy that she was there (which she already knew was the truth) but there was something else too that made Santana seemed a little bit somber, and somehow she thought that _thing_ wasn't necessarily something good.

"Are you alright?" she asked Santana when she caught her staring outside the window, books scattered on and around her lap.

"Hm?" Santana replied lazily. "Yeah, I'm okay."

Brittany eyed her suspiciously, but eventually giving up to Santana's need to be left alone with her thoughts. "Okay," she said. "If you say so."

She hid a sigh and went back to removing their clothes from the laundry basket into the closet. Nancy had had her stuff shipped overnight right after she arrived in Johnson City, and Brittany had felt the need to wash (and rewash) her clothes just so they'd smell like the Schuesters' residence instead of the other. She was 'okay' but she wasn't _that_ okay. The fact that Doug had died didn't change the fact that awful things were done onto her for a long time.

Brittany was brought back to the present when she heard a faint noise of a drawer being opened. It sounded like Santana was trying to be discreet about it, so instead of turning fully around, Brittany angled herself just enough so she could see what Santana was doing from the corner of her eyes.

Santana's hand was inside the top drawer of her nightstand, feeling around for something in it. But then her face was overcome with a realization and she retracted her hand and started to wring her fingers.

"Um, Britt," she called to Brittany who was on the other side of the room. "Do you still have my book?"

"Oh!" Brittany slapped her forehead with her free hand. She took a few steps towards a corner where she had been using to pile her stuff up and took out a bag that she carried with her to Santana. "Here you go," she pulled the book out. "I'm not finished with it though, sorry."

"Oh... no, it's okay. I just wanted to know if it's safe," Santana quickly answered. Her hands raised and made a little gesture to push the book back into Brittany's hands. "You can keep it."

Brittany tilted her head and took in the sight in front of her. The books and papers on Santana's lap didn't look like they were about to be touched again— they were all faced down.

"Are you still studying?" she asked Santana who immediately shook her head.

"Ugh," Santana groaned. "No. I can't handle anymore disgusting facts about the human body. No more reading about phlegm, thank you."

"Ew," Brittany made a face. She then put her bag down on the floor and started to pick up the many books on top of Santana's covers. She stacked them neatly on the nightstand before she sat on the bed and set Santana's notebook on her best friend's lap.

"Um," Santana was confused, and slightly disappointed. "You don't want to finish it?"

Brittany shook her head. "I want you to finish it for me. Read it to me."

"What, like... out loud?"

"Yeah. Just like how you read me stuff for school," Brittany nodded. Then, after letting a silent beat take over the room, she continued. "You know I was never good with written words, Santana," another beat. "I wanna learn everything about you."

There was a silent beat, and all Santana could hear was Quinn's voice cheering her on in her head: _Gooo Santana!_

Santana swallowed a big lump of nervousness in her throat. This was something she needed to do. She wanted Brittany to know everything about her before she told her how she felt. It was only fair.

"Okay," Santana swallowed again. "But, um, if it gets too overwhelming for you, tell me to stop so I won't embarrass us both."

Brittany smiled. She moved so that she was sitting next to Santana with her back leaning on the headboard.

"Never," the blonde girl said as she pulled the covers up so that they were both comfortable.

oOoOo

Brittany, while Santana was reading her heart out loud, never took her eyes off her best friend. She listened to everything Santana was saying, and what she wasn't. With every word she heard, comes a hint of sadness and a dash of something else that felt like a knocking from her heart. She thought it was funny, considering she had spent the past few years thinking it was empty.

She observed Santana as the girl timidly read the handwritten entries one by one and internally chuckled at the sight in front of her. Shy Santana was extremely adorable– not to mention a rare occurrence.

After a number of entries, mainly about how lonely it was for Santana not having a roommate anymore, how hard it was to find Brittany no matter how many phone calls she made and about how high school sucked without Brittany, Santana flipped to a specific page and froze. Brittany followed her gaze to see what Santana was looking at: the old piece of newspaper. It was so old that the paper had turned into a yellow shade of gray– if there was such a thing– and Santana had to literally peel the frail piece of paper off the page.

"This is the article when my dad um... when my dad died," she handed the paper to Brittany.

The blonde girl accepted the article and stayed quiet. She didn't want to make comment yet, because she knew that if she started talking, Santana was going to withdraw and stop.

"I found my dad hanging from the ceiling one day when I got home from school. I opened the door and he was just... there," Santana started to explain. Her voice was calm, but if you were there you wouldn't miss the defeat she carried in it. "And nobody in my family wanted to take me in. Not my uncles, not my aunts... They said it wasn't because they didn't want to, but they couldn't take on the financial responsibility. I knew that was bullcrap, though. They were loaded. They just... didn't want me."

"And that's how you ended up in the system," Brittany concluded, looking up at Santana for a brief second until the latter girl nodded, and then went back to reading the rest of the article.

Santana let her best friend take her time understanding the words in the news piece by looking outside the window again. There was a slow breeze that blew past the tree outside their house and she allowed herself to enjoy the soft rustling sound of the leaves shaking. She internally laughed at herself because _God_, how very melodramatic of her.

"Your mom..." Brittany said softly and Santana turned her head around again. "She was in an accident?"

"She was. I was too," Santana took a deep breath. "We were coming home from school and there was a storm that day. We were shouting at each other. She was mad at me and I was mad at _her_ for being angry at me. Then I told her... I wish she weren't my mom," a pause. "Right after that, another car hit us and the next thing I knew the medics were taking me to the hospital. She, uh, she didn't make it."

"I'm sorry," Brittany said, putting a hand over Santana's and the latter girl gave her a grateful smile for it.

"After she was gone, we were an awesome pair, my dad and I. Like, super awesome. My friends were totally jealous because their dads weren't as cool as mine. But I could tell that he was missing her so much. Some mornings, he'd sit in the kitchen and just stare at the counter... waiting for her to magically appear with our breakfast," Santana cleared her throat. "I never told my dad about the fight because I was scared he'd be mad at me and left," Santana looked at Brittany. "But.. as you know," she pointed at the article in Brittany's hands, "he left me anyway."

"Santana... is this why you said you shouldn't miss them?" Brittany recalled a conversation that happened a long time ago between the two of them. "Because you feel responsible about all that happened?"

Santana's answer was only a whimper.

Brittany moved closer and wiped a stray tear falling down on Santana's face. If she could, she would've done something to stop Santana from crying forever. But for now, that was all she could do. "It's not your fault, Santana."

Santana let out a shaky breath. "Isn't it, really? If I didn't hit that stupid kid, she wouldn't have come to see the principal, we wouldn't have been trapped in that storm and... and if I didn't wish her away, she would probably still be alive now. Both of them."

Santana really didn't mean to start sobbing, she really didn't. It was supposed to be an informational session more than anything. Quinn's words had bugged her (and motivated her) so much and she had decided to let Brittany know everything about her before she finally told her that one last crucial thing about herself– that she loved Brittany with everything she got. But she was out of practice. She hadn't been talking about herself in a long time, and, as much as she liked the promise of discretion offered by a lonely tree in the park, the linden had never given her a hug when she wanted to cry. She was feeling overwhelmed.

"It's okay. Cry," Brittany told her simply, and Santana couldn't figure out why it was so easy for Brittany to make her do things she had been telling herself not to. She thought it was selfish of her to crumble into Brittany's arms when they had_ just_ finished dealing with the blonde girl's traumatic past, but every time she gathered herself enough to pull away from Brittany's arms, her best friend kept her there– safe and sound.

oOoOo

"So... what's it gonna be?" Santana asked in the middle of chewing her dinner. Emma had found her asleep after messily sobbing in Brittany's arms and offered the girls to bring their food to the room. Santana wasn't conscious during the exchange, but she found out later from Brittany that the blonde girl ended up getting the food herself from the kitchen and came back just before she opened her eyes.

Brittany shrugged. "I don't see why I shouldn't be her daughter anymore. Look, I know what you're thinking," Brittany said again when she saw Santana wasn't convinced of her decision. "I know you're still mad at her, and it's fine. I actually told her that I need time. I told her that I'd stay being her daughter, but I'm going to stay living here for a while."

"And she's okay with that?" Santana asked, squinting her eyes. She still had a bit of spite left towards Nancy for leaving Brittany behind. She didn't think she'd ever be alright with that.

"She is," Brittany nodded. "I'll probably spend weekends at her place and then come back here. You know, to test the waters?"

"Mm-hmm."

"She told me you can come along for sleepovers if you want," Brittany smiled. "What do you think?"

Santana smiled back. "That sounds great."

"Awesome," Brittany grinned. She picked up Santana's paper plate and set it down on the desk. "So..." she plopped back down on Santana's bed, making sure she didn't accidentally touch Santana where it hurt. "You never finished reading your book to me."

"Oh... yeah, sorry," Santana tried to laugh at herself and failed. "I didn't mean to cry, I swear."

Brittany made her wait for an answer for a spell or two before she finally opened her mouth again. "Don't be sorry. You can cry whenever you want. I like crying Santana."

Santana scrunched her face. "You do?"

"No, I mean, I don't_ like_ you crying but I like _you _crying. No, wait," Brittany clicked her tongue and rolled her eyes, frustrated with her inability to express herself clearly. "What I meant was, I'd rather you cry to me than push me away. Although, if I could stop you from crying forever, that'd be awesome too," she grinned, effectively ending that part of her speech, and Santana's butterflies fluttered violently. Smashing into the walls of her stomach like they were on drugs.

Brittany then held up the notebook for Santana to take."Anyway, on with the show."

"Okay," Santana stalled by taking a very deep breath and letting it out again right before she started reading. "_April 20, 2010. Brittany is back. She's back and she's not the same Brittany I knew. She's still blonde, but not as blonde. Her eyes are blue, but not as blue... I know it doesn't make sense, but that's what I see,_" Santana read the words on the page and started to cringe when she saw the next paragraph. "Britt, I wrote a lot about you and Doug. Do you want me to continue or just skip it?"

Brittany shook her head. "Read it. I'm okay."

Santana complied with an uneasiness floating above her head.

"_I saw her bruises, her scratches," _she continued. _"I wish he'd die. I wanna feed him to fire ants and let him die in pain. She told me everything and— _Britt... you know what? I'm sorry. I need to stop," Santana put the book down and shook her head. "I can't... I can't read it. I'm getting images in my head and I don't want to see you that way ever again. Besides, you know everything that happened after that day. You know most of my thoughts already. I mean, if you want to read it for yourself, it's fine... but please don't make me do it right now."

"Hm," Brittany pondered. Truth was, she herself wasn't sure if she could handle it. "I guess you're right. Okay, no more reading. Can I ask you questions, though? I only have three."

Santana made small nods as she put the notebook down. "Yeah, sure. I mean, I told you you can."

"Cool," Brittany grinned. "Okay, first question. You said you wanted him dead. But when you found him lying there... why did you try to save him?"

"I wanted him to die so, so much, Britt," Santana huffed. "You didn't know this, but I had his gun in my hands. his life was pretty much mine."

"And then what happened?"

"Then he had a heart attack. He was about to die and I realized that he needed to pay for what he did to you. Slowly. Painfully. I want you to have the satisfaction of putting him behind bars for the rest of his life... but that didn't happen, obviously," Santana ran a hand through her hair. "Ugh, I should've thought of a better plan. Sor–"

"No, hey," Brittany cut Santana off and caught her hand. She intertwined their fingers and brought their hands to her heart. "If you didn't do it then there's a good chance you'd be bleeding to death at the park that night, and I'd be God knows where with him right now. Don't ever apologize for saving my life. And don't ever apologize for saving your own life either because I don't know how to live without you, Santana."

Santana looked at their joined hands and again she felt her heart was going to jump out of her ribcage. She was grateful it was Brittany's heart their hands were leaning on because if it was hers, there was no doubt all her secrets would be found out before she was ready. In fact, for that same reason, she decided to not say anything at the moment and gave Brittany a tight-lipped smile instead.

It didn't work though, because Brittany's next question totally gave her a heart attack. Santana had to blink a few times before she embarrassingly pretended to not hear the question the first time.

"I'm sorry, what was that?" she asked.

Brittany tilted her head and smiled sweetly. Santana wasn't fooling anybody. But, for Santana's sake, she was willing to play the game and repeat the question.

"I said, 'why did you kiss me in the locker room?'"

Santana blinked at her again. It was funny because she never thought she'd be surprised by the question– she had been preparing herself to answer, actually. But preparations were just plans, and when the actual moment happens, nothing is 100% guaranteed. What was the best answer for that question? Should she just tell Brittany the same thing she told Quinn? Tell her the short version of it? Or what?

Brittany saw Santana's lips open and close so many times in the span of 10 seconds that she was beginning to worry that Santana was having spasms. When the darker girl finally started to talk, she concealed a relieved exhale.

"I..." Santana stuttered. Unconsciously, she tried to pull her hand out of Brittany's because she was nervous and her brain was telling her to wring her fingers. Brittany's grip was strong, though. There was no way she was going to let go.

_Fuck it, _thought Santana. _Just tell her._

"I love you," Santana said in one breath– so quick that she felt like she had to repeat it just to make sure that Brittany heard her. "Brittany, I love you."

Santana looked straight into Brittany's blue eyes looking for a response, but all she saw was that same look that had been in Brittany's eyes since forever and she couldn't figure out if it was a good thing or bad. "Say something, please? Just say something."

"Why?" asked the blonde girl. "Why do you love me?"

Once again, Brittany watched as Santana's lips open and close for a million times before the raven-haired girl answered.

"I don't know," Santana finally told her truthfully and Brittany's eyebrows furrowed. "There are a million things that make it so easy to love you but none of them is why I love you."

Brittany scratched her temple with two fingers. "...I'm confused."

"You have... the most gorgeous blue eyes I've ever seen. The prettiest blonde hair that glow under the sun. You have the most adorable pout that gets you anything you want, the most amazing way of thinking, the biggest heart, and I could list all these things forever if I have to, but... say you dyed your hair red. Would that make me stop loving you? No. If one day you woke up and your eyes weren't blue anymore, I'd still love you. I could tell you that you're my savior, but even if you weren't, I'd _still_ love you," Santana told her best friend, and what started as jumbled, mumbled words turned into a softly spoken confession. "So, there you go. I don't have a reason. I love you, and I don't know why or how. I just do. I just love you."

Brittany pursed her lips in thought, then bit the bottom one, and Santana used the silence to prepare for the worse. She didn't regret it though. Now that everything was laid out there, there was no point of regretting it. It wasn't like she could take those words back, anyway.

Brittany's response wasn't what she was expecting, though. It wasn't a good response, nor was it a bad one. It was a question– Brittany's third question.

"What was Quinn talking about? What did she want you to find out?"

Santana closed her eyes and sighed internally. Clearly, Brittany didn't care about that much about what she had just told her. "She wanted me to find out if you love me too."

"Well?" Brittany looked at Santana pointedly.

"Well, what?"

Brittany playfully rolled her eyes. "Ask me, silly!"

"Um," Santana bit her bottom lip. "Okay." If this was a just a game to her, Brittany was being really, really cruel about it. "Brittany, do you love me ba– umpph."

It was the best feeling Santana had ever felt.

Being kissed by someone she loved with all her heart?

Knowing somebody loved her back?

It was the best feeling Santana had ever felt, ever.

* * *

><p><em><strong>AN:** Oh my God. I don't seem to have the ability to stop writing this fic... seriously what is wrong with me?_

_As always, thank you for the reviews, feedback & for pressing the fave/alert button for this story!_

**_for the rebels:_**

_**NYABG:** for sure! my tumblr is flyingmonkeysaside. but I haven't been tumbling a lot cause of work and well, this fic lololol. but yeah hit me up on my ask box and we'll follow each other and talk and cry and stuff and stuff xD_

_**Payton:** Ma'am yes, ma'am! *salutes*_

_Have a great weekend and Veteran's Day, everyone. Don't forget to say thanks to the people leaving their friends and families to fight for their country when you see them. They're good peeps :) :)_


	35. Open

"Just to be clear," Santana said as she rested her forehead against Brittany's. The kiss was short, and literally sweet thanks to Brittany's lipgloss, but it left her breathless just as well. "That's a yes, right?"

Brittany nodded and cupped Santana's face. "Yes. And here's another yes in case you didn't believe me."

Kiss.

"And another."

Kiss.

"And another."

Kiss.

"Santana, I love you. And I'm not just because you saved my life," Brittany set their foreheads together again for a second before she reluctantly pulled away. She pulled Santana's hands with her though, and once again brought them to her heart as she shifted her position so they were face to face. "I think I've loved you forever. I think I've loved you since the first night I got here. I just didn't know it yet back then."

In that moment, nothing else in the world mattered to Santana. Everything but herself and Brittany fell into a blur of a desaturated background and for a while she wondered if it was just a dream. It_ seemed_ like a dream. But she could feel the warmth of Brittany's hands around hers and the way Brittany was squeezing them gently as she talked, so it couldn't be a dream. A secret pinch she gave herself under the covers further proved that it was real and all Santana wanted to do was to control her facial expression because she was feeling all sorts of emotions in that particular moment. She wanted to cry, but she wanted to laugh at the same time because... because it's Brittany, and she was telling her she loved her back.

"_Maybe Santana_," Santana breathed out with a shaky voice from the overwhelming feelings. "That's what you called me."

Brittany gave her a pursed smile as she nodded. "Maybe Santana was sweet. She was a little bit scary, but she was sweet. Did you know that she made sure I was tucked in up to my neck before she went back to sleep?" Brittany playfully raised an eyebrow.

"All this time I thought you didn't remember that," Santana blushed. "There I was, being an 11-year-old bitch to you and thought I was being such a badass."

Brittany shook her head. "I remember everything when it comes to you. Oh, I know!" Brittany said excitedly. "You can quiz me! I bet I'll get everything right!"

"No, it's okay. I believe you," Santana laughed, Brittany gave her a grin, and they spent a second absorbing everything that happened in the last 5 minutes.

"Did you really mean what you said?" asked Brittany after a beat. "That even if I'm not blonde, even if my eyes aren't blue, you'd still love me?"

It felt weird asking the question. And kind of ironic too, because most people would love hearing praises about their hair or the color of their eyes. She guessed she _could_ feel good about being recognized by how gorgeous her blonde hair was or how blue her eyes were. She_ could_ feel flattered about someone praising her face or how tall she was. But to be completely honest? No. She couldn't. Not when they were the same things that drew Doug to her.

And yes. She needed to know.

"With all my heart," answered Santana without any hesitation in her voice. Blue eyes met browns and it was all that Brittany needed to know that Santana was telling the truth. Brittany awarded her with one last kiss, and Santana could swear she just melted for the billionth time that night.

oOoOo

They ended up sharing the tiny bed and Brittany, in an effort to not accidentally press onto Santana's injured parts, had to maintain her sideways position all night long. Around 2 o'clock in the morning, the discomfort she was feeling in her stiff arm woke her up. But one look at the person sleeping next to her refrained herself from leaving the bed. Because next to Santana was the safest place she knew.

Come morning, Brittany watched as Santana shifted slowly on her side of the bed, a sign of waking up, and she wondered if Santana ever had nightmares as bad as hers. She doubted that Santana ever had them at all because she thought her best friend was all kinds of badass, but still, Brittany wondered if she could make them all disappear, just like how Santana made hers disappear.

"Morning," she greeted a half-asleep Santana as soon as she saw the other girl open her eyes.

Santana had to blink the sleep out of her eyes a few times before she greeted back with a croaky voice. "Morning. What time is it?"

"About 7," Brittany smiled. "How are you feeling? I didn't accidentally elbow your ribs or anything, did I?"

"No," Santana rubbed her face with one hand. She noticed how Brittany was laying down on her side and tried to scoot to give her more space. "I don't think you moved at all last night. Are you okay?"

"I'm good, I'm okay," nodded Brittany with a smile. "Do you want to come downstairs or have your breakfast in bed? Or do you still want to sleep?"

Santana pondered her answer for a spell or two. If it were a few months back, she would've loved having her breakfast in bed and just lounge around all day. But now, she was so sick and tired of looking at the same four walls everyday. The only thing that made her days better was Brittany, simply because Brittany didn't want to leave her alone for too long, but Santana felt bad for confining the blonde girl in their room when she could be enjoying her day outside doing whatever it was she wasn't doing.

"I think I'm gonna try and go downstairs. I've spent too long laying down on the bed already. I don't know if I even remember how to walk anymore," Santana rolled her eyes.

"Okay," Brittany sat up and stretched. "Do you need some help getting to bathroom?"

"Uh-uh. Let me try on my own first," said Santana as she pushed herself up with her elbows. She cringed at first, but once she got used to the unpleasant tingling on her left side, she sucked it up and swung her legs over the edge of the bed and onto the floor.

Brittany watched with her hands raised up behind Santana, ready to catch her if she fell. But Santana never did, and she proceeded to walk (slowly) to the closet to get a change of clothes without anybody's help.

"Hey," Brittany called her when Santana was walking out the bedroom door, effectively making Santana look over her shoulder.

"What?"

Brittany shrugged and then gave her a smile. "I love you."

Santana didn't answer immediately– she thought it wasn't fair that Brittany seemed to be planning her demise early by giving her mini heart attacks– but the blush that made her cheeks one shade more pink and the way that she returned Brittany's grin with her own timid smile let Brittany know how much those three simple words were affecting her.

"Love you too," answered Santana shyly, contentedly, before walking out of the room.

Santana walked down the hallway with a grin that wouldn't go away no matter how hard she tried to conceal it. She even patted her cheeks in front of the mirror after she was done washing her face so she would snap out of the weird haze she was under, but there was no use. It was a thick haze and she found that she didn't mind it one bit. She had to bite the inside of her cheeks to stop herself from smiling. Not that it worked.

When she returned to the room, it was even harder for her to stop smiling because Brittany was there. Memories of the night before replayed over and over again in her head and _oh my God_, she still couldn't believe it happened. She still couldn't believe how... _lovely... _she was feeling that morning.

Facing the closet to change, Santana caught Brittany secretly staring at her through the mirror and they both blushed furiously once their eyes met. It was ridiculous, yes, how teenybopper monkey love songs turned from making no sense at all into making perfect sense, but Santana thought it was nice to know that she and Brittany were being ridiculous together.

Coming down the staircase took an extra effort for Santana, but with Brittany holding her hand, it was a piece of cake. Once she tackled all the steps, Brittany was forced to let her go because Emma needed her help carrying food from the kitchen. She didn't like how empty her hand had suddenly felt. So she balled her fist and savored the warmth that Brittany's hand had left her with.

Breakfast was... interesting. Well, at least for Puck. He kept looking at them with squinted eyes, trying to figure out what was secretly happening in both of his foster sisters' lives at that moment. It was totally their fault, though. Brittany and Santana kept stealing gazes at each other when they thought the other one wasn't looking. Then, more than just a couple of times, they'd reach for something at the same time, bump hands and awkwardly apologize to each other to no end. It was s_o_ out of character for Brittany and Santana to be timid around each other that Puck's right eyebrow was getting tired from being raised so frequently.

Poor Puck was so focused on solving the mystery that he mistakenly poured orange juice into his bowl of Corn Pops and not realize it until after he shoved a spoonful into his mouth. Of course, being Puck, he ultimately decided that his palate found it agreeable. He also thought that it was a timesaver breakfast strategy (everybody else at the table simply looked at him and his bowl with awkward disgust on their faces).

Will didn't catch the oddity that much. He was already preoccupied with the morning paper when the girls came down to the kitchen. All he gave them was a "good morning," and a mandatory, "how are you feeling?" for Santana. To which she answered honestly, "I've never been better."

Emma though... she was a different story. In a cliche coincidence only the universe could create, Emma picked up a napkin that had fallen to the floor the same time as when Brittany was reaching for Santana's hand under the table. She didn't think of it as anything at first, since the girls had the habit of linking their pinkies. But once Santana's hand started to spread open, and when Brittany responded by intertwining their fingers, her doe eyes felt like they were about to jump out of her sockets.

Then she bumped her head onto the underside of the table because she felt like she was witnessing something she wasn't supposed too.

She excused herself to the kitchen because she felt like she was about to burst and cry. She didn't realize how much she had been rooting for her girls to find love, and when she realized that they had had it all along, Emma made a promise with herself that she'd do anything in her power to protect that bond. It didn't mean that she didn't care about the progression of the girls' friendship into a relationship, though (even if she wasn't even sure if the girls were in a 'relationship' at all). As their 'mother', she had to make sure both Santana and Brittany were aware of the consequences the society were going to impose them if there were one.

But, _eh_, she thought. That party pooper talk could wait. She'd rather let them have the opportunity to come forward than pushing them into some corner to get the truth out. For now she was going to just sit back and enjoy the happiness both girls were finally given by the universe.

But maybe... a little teasing wouldn't hurt.

"Brittany, Santana, what do you girls think about a date night?" asked Emma when they were the only three at the house. Will and Puck had already gone to school and she took a day off that day– her guidance wasn't really in demand those days. Which was strange considering the number of breakdowns the McKinley hallways always seemed to witness during exam weeks.

"Excuse me?" Santana stuttered. Then she looked over to Brittany who shared the same confused expression on her face.

"Yeah," Emma kept a straight face. It was too easy. "A date night. A night when a loving couple get to spend by themselves without the interruptions of others. Would you like that?"

Santana's eyes blinked. She wasn't sure if she had heard Emma correctly. _Holy crap, why is she asking us about a date night? _

"Um..." Santana stalled as she tried to figure out what Emma was saying. "You're asking us if we'd like a date night?"

Emma bit the inside of her cheek and tried as hard as she could to not laugh at the poor girl whose face was getting paler and paler. Brittany was slightly more relaxed than Santana, but she was starting to play with her fingernails so Emma decided to cut the joke short.

"Yeah, I was thinking about having a date night with Will, and I don't know about Puck but maybe you guys could house sit?"

"Oh!" Brittany responded first. "Okay. A date night for you and Will! Yeah, that sounds great!"

Santana exhaled a really long exhale before she joined in with a smile. "Yeah, Emma. That sounds awesome. You guys deserve it."

"When are you planning to have it?" asked Brittany.

"Hm," pondered Emma. Now the idea of a date night really seemed intriguing. "Maybe in two weeks? After the semester is done?"

Brittany nodded. Santana did the same. It sounded reasonable.

"Just tell us when and we'll totally keep an eye of the house for you," Santana told the red-haired woman with a smile and she got one in return.

"Oh, don't worry. I'll be sure to tell you," Emma said with a wink. Her mischievous side suddenly decided to make a reappearance. "I mean, I wouldn't _dream_ about you two going through a date night without a solid plan."

With that, Emma walked out of the living room and into the kitchen, leaving two very bewildered teenage girls behind. Her words had been vague enough, but that wink– and Emma _never _winked– definitely made Santana's heart race.

With a swift movement, Santana pulled Brittany by the hand to their room. She had to hold her breath a couple of times because her sides were tingling from pain, but they really needed the talk.

And not just any talk. _The_ talk.

"Calm down, Santana," Brittany said to her once the door was shut.

"I _am _calm," Santana insisted. Her eyebrows scrunched together.

Brittany took a step forward and ran her thumb over the lines on Santana's forehead. "Sure you are," Brittany smiled softly.

"Britt," Santana sighed. "We're going to have to tell them soon."

"Tell them what?" asked the blonde.

"This, Britt," Santana sat on the edge of her bed, keeping her back straight. "Us."

Brittany smiled. "Okay. Well... what do you want to tell them? That we're girlfriends now?"

"Wow," Santana chuckled, and then blushed from just Brittany saying the word. "Cutting right to the chase, huh? But um... for the record, I think we're more than just that."

Santana raised a hand tentatively and opened her palm, waiting for Brittany to reach for it. Once Brittany's hand slipped into hers, she tugged the blue-eyed blonde forward so that she'd sit next to her. "You're my whole world," she whispered and rested her head onto Brittany's shoulder. "I wish there was a word for that."

"Me too," Brittany agreed. "You're my whole world too."

There was a soothing kind of quiet after that. The kind of quiet you'd want to last forever because of the way it carries your heart. Gently and so carefully like it couldn't even bear the thought of breaking it.

The opened window behind them allowed a light summer breeze in and Brittany turned her head left so that her lips touched Santana's black hair (Santana closed her eyes in contentment when it happened).

"So you want to tell them... when? Do you think they'll be okay with it?"

"I honestly don't know," Santana shrugged. "A part of me thinks they will be, but the other part of me is kind of... scared. I mean... as much as it pained me to say this, they're all we got– apart from each other, of course."

"Yeah," Brittany sighed. "I know what you mean. I'd want Emma and Nancy to come with us to our dress fittings someday."

Santana pulled away so she could look at her best friend. "Are you... saying what I think you're saying?"

"What?" Brittany looked back at her. "I know we're young but it's so easy for me to imagine you in my life forever. You've never thought about things like that?"

"I..." Santana stuttered, but then relented with a blush creeping up her face. The truth was, she had imagined a lot of things in her future and all of them involved Brittany. A small but cozy house, a mailbox that said "S&B" on it, picnics under her linden in the park, pointing at clouds and imagining them something else. All those things and more. She blamed Carl and Ellie for successfully making her a sobbing mess during that infamous 4 minutes in Up.

"Yes," Santana shyly admitted. Sometimes she hated how it was so easy for Brittany to be honest with her feelings. "All of them."

"Awesome," Brittany pulled a grin– which Santana was quick to kiss.

oOoOo

Nancy came back to Lima later that week and immediately moved her things from her sister's place to a quaint little house that was just around the block from the Schuesters. She had specifically asked her sister to find her a place that was close enough to Brittany's other family because of two things. One being Brittany's request to stay living with her foster family for the time being, and the other being Nancy's trust in Will and Emma, also Santana and Puck, to take care of Brittany's needs while she worked towards regaining Brittany's faith in her. Even though at the moment it seemed like Brittany favored her foster family more then her, Nancy harbored no hard feelings towards the family. Of course, jealousy was there, but it wasn't like she didn't do anything to deserve it.

The whole Schuester household came by to help with her move that day. Will borrowed a pick-up truck from one of his neighbors and, along with Puck, helped carry the small number of boxes that held Nancy's things. They also offered to pick up a new bed that Nancy had bought from a nearby mattress store. She got a massive discount once the manager learned that she was somewhat related to the Glee club teacher– Will helped the storeowner produce a jingle for a Black Friday commercial they did last year.

Since the new house Nancy was renting came furnished, Emma decided to help her with rearranging the furniture and placing her little knick-knacks where they belonged– _after_ wiping them clean with antibacterial wipes, of course. The communication was awkward at first, but they got over it. It was Nancy's husband that abused Brittany and tried to kill Santana after all and Emma didn't think she'd ever get over it, but at the same time, the ginger knew Nancy only had limited power when it happened. Soon enough, the two women caught up with each other's lives as the conversations they had ever had before only totaled a few hours. Always cut short by Nancy's sudden leaving. Always cut short by Nancy's fear.

"This might sound wrong, but can I just say that I'm glad you can finally move on," said Emma as she wiped a newly bought mirror with Windex. "And I'm glad that you're moving so close to us... you know, with the whole arrangement with Brittany and all."

"Me too," Nancy smiled at the woman and nodded. "To be honest, I wouldn't want to live anywhere else. You and Will have been wonderful to me and, most importantly, to Brittany. Plus, I want her to trust me again. This is the only way I know how. I really can't forgive myself for ever leaving her alone there with my husband."

"Brittany's already forgiven you for that," Emma reminded Nancy. "You should too, soon."

Nancy smiled tight-lipped. She wondered to herself if that moment would ever happen. "I know."

Right on cue and to Emma's rescue from the change of atmosphere, Brittany and Santana walked through the front door. They had volunteered to get Nancy's grocery list to fill up the kitchen cupboards and refrigerator. Nancy gave Brittany her debit card to buy the items and Emma gave Santana her car keys to help complete the task.

"Hey guys," greeted Emma happily. "Did you find everything?"

Brittany nodded and set a couple of bags onto the kitchen counter. "Yep," she said. "All of them."

"But you only wrote 'snacks' on the list, so we just grabbed some healthy stuff that Emma eats," Santana chimed in and looked at Nancy to show her that the resentment she once felt towards the woman was almost gone completely. "And you didn't write it but Brittany insisted on getting you some fruits, so we did."

"Oh?" Nancy turned to Brittany.

"Yeah," Brittany shrugged. "I remember you loved eating fresh fruits more than real food, so I got you some. And I know they're good for you. I don't want you to get sick or anything."

Maybe it was the cleaning agents that she had been inhaling all day, or maybe it was the sincerity in Brittany's voice that showed Nancy her step daughter still cared so much about her, but Nancy felt like her heart (and tear ducts) was about to explode. "Thank you, Brittany," she smiled. "You too, Santana."

"You're welcome," smiled Brittany softly. "We still got a couple more bags in the trunk. We'll be right back."

Nancy smiled back and watched as the girls stepped outside to fetch the rest of the groceries from the car. That's when Nancy accidentally caught sight of Brittany's hand reaching for Santana's the moment she thought they were out of Nancy's and Emma's view. Another thing that she didn't miss? The loving glance that Santana gave the blonde before she took her hand.

"Did something happen between them?" Nancy asked Emma.

Emma looked up, totally confused with the question. She wasn't paying very much attention to the other woman due to a stubborn stain on a vase. "Excuse me?"

"Brittany and Santana," Nancy pointed to the front door. "Did I miss anything?"

"Oh..." Emma formed an 'o' with her lips.

"I mean," Nancy looked at the redhead. "I know I missed a week, but... did I miss something... _important_?"

"I'm not sure," Emma answered truthfully. It was a loaded question and Emma, who in fact didn't know much, didn't really have an answer for her. She did, however, feel the need to lay down the law– somewhat gently. "But... generally speaking, would you have a problem with that? Because let me just tell you that I'm ready to be anybody's mother if they couldn't be themselves in their own home."

"No," Nancy's eyes widened. "No, no. I don't have a problem with... _that_. I'm not opposed to love of any kind. Unless they involve incestuous relationship, which I find extremely disturbing."

"Good," Emma nodded. Then she scrunched her nose and made a face. "And I agree. I find it disturbing as well."

A beat, then, "does anyone know about it yet?"

Emma shook her head. "I don't think so. I myself found out by accident. I'd love to learn more about it, but I want them to tell us in their own time. I don't even want to tell Will about it before they come forward with the news."

Nancy nodded her head slowly, her hands playing with a framed picture of herself with Brittany taken on a sunny day at the park. Brittany's laughter from outside the house– which she assumed was caused by Santana– grazed her metaphoric heart gently. "Yeah, that's probably for the best."

oOoOo

"Did you notice anything strange with Nancy today?" asked Santana as she dried her hair. The pain in her ribs was gone completely, and now she could stretch her arms far enough to wash her hair without so much as a wince.

Brittany stopped flipping the magazine in her hands to look at Santana– who, by the way, always looked so pretty after a shower. "No. why?"

Santana shrugged. "I don't know. She gave me, like, the tightest hug ever when we said goodbye. And she told me to take care of you and stuff."

"Huh," Brittany tilted her head. "That's kind of... weird. Don't people say that to– _oh_."

Santana's hands, along with her towel, moved down onto her lap. "What, Britt?"

"No, it's just that... don't people usually say that to someone who's marrying– or dating– someone they care about?"

The darker blinked her eyes, trying to process Brittany's suggestion. It did make sense that Nancy would tell her that if the woman had found out about their situation and all. However, she couldn't figure out _how_ Nancy could find out. Plus, if Nancy knew, then Emma must have known about it too. _Now_ the 'date night' thing started to make sense.

"I guess now we _really_ need to tell everyone about us," Santana huffed.

"Wow," Brittany chuckled. "Way to be excited, Santana."

Santana got up and walked over to Brittany's bed and sat in front of her Indian style. "I didn't mean it like that, B. I guess I kinda want us to have this moment to ourselves for a few more days instead of sharing it with everybody else. I like not caring about their thoughts. I mean, the only reason Quinn hasn't been violating us with her crazy texts is because we haven't told her anything yet. But," Santana gave her a smile that she reserved for Brittany, and for Brittany only. "It doesn't mean I want to hide what we have. And I want to hear what _you_ think because you're the other half of this relationship. Whatever you feel about this, tell me."

Brittany scratched her temple and blushed. Every time Santana gave her that look that said she was her everything, she always did.

"I... I don't want to keep secrets anymore. I mean, I know that it's totally a different situation, but I had to do that for the longest time with Doug and I'm just so sick and tired of it," Brittany sighed and Santana nodded understandingly. "I want to hold your hand in front of everybody and tell people how awesome it is to be kissing you. I want to tell them everything. Like, what if we start with Quinn since she kind of made this happen? Then Emma, maybe Nancy too. Then we'll see from there?"

Santana nodded. "Sounds like a good idea. Although maybe you don't have to mention how awesome it is to be kissing me."

"But I like kissing you," Brittany leaned forward. "You're like chocolate. I just can't stop."

"Mm," Santana smiled into the kiss. "I like kissing you too."

oOoOo

The first person they told was Quinn, just like Brittany suggested. They did it through a text, because Santana didn't want to deal with Quinn's ridiculous squeals by telling her in person. And for that same reason, Santana didn't send her the text. It was Brittany who did. And she did it cleverly.

**To: Quinn**

_To answer your question, yes I do._

The vagueness of it took Quinn almost a whole day to figure out. And when she finally did, the reaction was as predicted.

**From: Quinn**

_Aaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaahhhhhhhhh!_

Then she proceeded by showing up unannounced at the front door less than half an hour later to get all the details directly from Brittany and Santana. About 10 minutes after that, after a few eye roll exchanges with Santana, and after a few teardrops of her own, Quinn gave her friends a big three-way hug.

"Be happy," she whispered almost inaudibly in Santana's ears and the brown-eyed girl tightened her hug just a little bit more.

The second person was Emma, and they did it during a 'date night' discussion because Emma had decided to turn the 'night' into a full 'weekend' to spend with Will. She had found a "Sweetheart Package" deal from a lodge up in Lake Erie and was trying to plan out the itinerary. Somewhere in the middle of Emma's rambling about romantic lakeside activities, Santana unconsciously grabbed Brittany's hand and intertwined their fingers. Of course Emma had to stop mid-speech.

"I think I've been waiting for this to happen for the longest time," the woman smiled. "And I couldn't be happier that you found each other. Although, I need to think how to apply an open-door policy to you guys since we don't have anymore rooms to separate you at night..."

Both Santana and Brittany's eyes widened at the implication.

_"_It's not that I don't trust you, and I guess there's no way you are going to get pregnant by accident," Emma continued to joke but then her laughter turned awkward when she saw the horrified looks in the girls' faces– in Brittany's more so than Santana's. "Anyway..." she cleared her throat. "No, this does not change anything. I'm still going away with Will for the weekend, and as far as I know, Puck's going to be away on a camping trip with his friends. You're free to do whatever you want as long as you're going to be responsible about iy."

Everyone involved in the conversation walked away with their dignities somewhat unscathed in the end. Emma's reaction helped put a lid on whatever fear they had about the slightly unconventional relationship and gave them enough encouragement to start telling the people who were closest to them. However, that last comment of hers made them go into quiet mode as they were left nervous about one particular thing that hanging over their heads like a heavy cloud ready to spill.

Ah, well. They still got 2 days to figure it all out.

.

.

.

_**A/N:** Sorry guys, I made you wait a long while for an update and all I could give you is a filler chapter. Been terribly busy with work these days and I just moved apartments. It's been a constant cycle of work & packing/unpacking. Hope your Thanksgivings were great, hope you were surrounded by all your loved ones._

_Also, anybody else having trouble with the Horizontal Line button in the editor? I can't seem to make it work at all these days.._

_Thank you for reading, for leaving reviews, for asking questions and giving me suggestions, guys! _

_**Payton:** LMAO ok I kinda had a hard time reading your review & thought you were drunk from all the booze you had at thxgiving dinner x) But noooo! No more deaths!_

_**Paige:** It's not the end yet.. but it's definitely the beginning of the end. Thanks for your kind words & thanks for reading... also for catching up with all of the chapters even though you just found the story recently!_


	36. Real

"How 'bout this?"

"No."

"This?"

"No."

"Okay, what about this then?"

"Oh, that looks super nice," Santana leaned closer to the screen to get a better look at the photo. She liked the colors, the furniture... and the restaurant got 4.5 out of 5 stars, so it was a sure guarantee the food is good. But then she moved her eyes towards the top of the page and saw the three dollar signs on the monitor. "But no," she sighed.

Quinn threw her hands up exasperatedly and got up from her seat. "You know what? _You_ Google. I'm gonna get myself a lemonade and escape your indecisiveness for a little while in the kitchen."

Santana didn't even wait until Quinn was out of the room to take over the swivel chair. They had been looking at nice, slightly fancy restaurants online for almost 2 hours now because Santana really didn't want to waste the opportunity to take Brittany out to a real date. But so far, everything they found were either too close to home, or too expensive.

She read the rest of the page and started thinking that maybe she shouldn't worry about the food so much if she couldn't afford it, which meant she needed another plan than dinner and a movie.

Santana rolled her eyes. _This is Lima_, she thought. _There's nothing much here._

Desperate, her fingers started typing words into the search bar on her screen.

_"First date ideas."_ Click. Search.

"I don't get why you're so stressed out about this," Quinn appeared out of nowhere and spoke right next to her ear.

"God!" Santana put one hand over her heart. "Quinn! Don't scare me like that!"

Quinn took a bite off her cookie and sat next to her friend who declined said cookie. "You're thinking too much."

Santana rolled her eyes. "I want it to be perfect. Sue me."

Quinn pursed her lips because it was too hard to not make fun of this rare version of Santana. The only time she had ever seen her was when Santana wanted to surprise Will and Emma for their 5th anniversary, and that was 3 years ago. Quinn kept telling her that it was a sweet gesture, and Santana kept denying the accusation.

Santana Lopez didn't do sweet.

Only, of course, she did.

Sometime between swallowing her cookie and sipping her lemonade, Quinn made a whipping sound. It earned her a death glare from Santana and she returned it with a teasing shoulder nudge. "I'm just saying, maybe Google can't provide you with anything because deep down, you already know what you want or going to do. The reason why you're not seeing anything is because you _don't _want them to tell you what to do."

Santana kept her eyes on the screen and considered her friend's suggestion. Maybe Quinn was right. Maybe she didn't have to look so much because, really, all of these ideas she was reading online was boring. Most of them are for grownups anyway; wine tours and what not.

"If you were taking Puck on a date, what would you do?" Santana turned around in her swivel chair.

Quinn furrowed her eyebrows. "Um, first of all, I _won't _be taking him on a date. _He_ can take _me _on a date. But," Quinn raised both her hands up once she saw the look on Santana's face. "For the sake of argument, I'd take him somewhere that lets him show off his skills."

"Wanky."

"Not like that," Quinn rolled her eyes. "I mean I want him to feel good."

"Still wanky. Ow!" Santana rubbed a part of her shoulder that Quinn just smacked.

"Do you want my opinion or not?!"

"Okay! Okay, I'm sorry! Jeez."

Quinn squinted her eyes at Santana before she continued. "I'd take him to a place that lets him do something that is different enough than his favorite activity– which is football– but still similar enough that he'd have fun during our date."

"Sounds complicated."

"Not really," Quinn shrugged. "I just want him to be happy."

Santana turned her head to face her blonde friend and smirked.

"What?" asked Quinn.

"Nothing," Santana shook her head– and then made a whipping sound, not unlike the one that Quinn had made for her earlier.

Meanwhile, across town, Nancy and Brittany were having a mother-daughter quality time. Brittany got a call from her stepmom and she agreed to do lunch since Santana had a 'thing' with Quinn that afternoon and she wouldn't let her come along no matter how hard she pouted. She didn't relent until Santana gave her a kiss and an 'I love you' whispered into her ears.

"So. You must be excited, right?" Nancy asked as she grabbed a glass of water.

Brittany looked up from her pasta. "About what?"

"Tomorrow, of course. Aren't you excited about it?"

"Oh," Brittany pursed her lips and blushed.

Emma had asked both her and Santana to tell Nancy about their progression before the adult Schuesters leave for their getaway, so they did. It was done during dessert at a family dinner that Emma hosted the night before she and Will left. Just as they suspected, her reaction had been great. In fact, the first thing she did was opening her arms so that both girls would come to her for a hug. Then she proceeded to give them a speech about how love wasn't something to take for granted and whatnot.

Of course, she cut her speech short because in the middle of all that, she realized that it was _her_ that needed to learn from them, and not the otherwise.

"Yeah, I am," Brittany answered, tilting her head left and right to cover her real excitement.

"Any plans at all?"

"Um," Brittany shifted in her seat, not really sure if she wanted to share with her stepmom. "Not sure yet," she offered, but when she detected defeat in Nancy's 'oh', she decided to tell the woman more. "We talked about having dinner and probably a movie afterwards, but she just texted me saying that she wanted the whole thing to be a surprise, so I really don't know."

Nancy smiled at this. "I'm sure she'll come up with something nice, honey."

"Yeah, me too," Brittany smiled back.

"Isn't this great? Now that it's the summer, the two of you will have more time together. So even if this one didn't go as lovely as you wanted it to be, you can bet on a lot more dates in the future," Nancy reminded her. "At least until the new school year starts."

"Why is that? I mean, we'll still be together anyway," Brittany spoke hurriedly that she almost choked on her water.

"College," Nancy clasped her hands on the table. "I know it's still a year away or so, but it's something she needs to think about. It's basically her last year to do whatever she can to get into the top universities. She's a very smart girl, so she _should_ be going to one. Can't let that mind go to waste, right?"

Brittany blinked. "Right," she answered tentatively.

"Which, by the way, made me realize that we need to put you back to school," Nancy wiped her mouth with a napkin. "I'm not sure how we're doing this yet, but I just want you to know that it's my duty as a mom to give you the education that you need, be it homeschool or regular school."

"Can I go to Santana's school?"

"Of course you can, honey," Nancy nodded. "But you have to remember that you won't be in the same grade as her. You're going to be 1 year behind because you never got to finish the school year."

Brittany nodded in defeat and pushed her plate away with a finger. She just realized now that by the time Santana graduated, she wouldn't be up there on the stage with her. And the worst thing of all, was that it was a selfish thought.

Suddenly she wasn't so hungry anymore.

oOoOo

The first thing that Brittany did that Saturday after she woke up was giving Santana a featherlight kiss on her forehead. The second thing that she did was brushing her teeth. The third was making Santana pancakes and the fourth was giving Santana another kiss (on the lips this time) because the darker girl basically saved her from burning the house to the ground. The fifth was writing, in huge block letter, "DON'T FORGET TO TURN OFF THE STOVE" on a piece of paper which she stuck on the refrigerator.

They ate the pancakes in silence on the dining table, sitting across from each other, occasionally looking at each other and giggling in between slices.

When she thought Santana wasn't looking, Brittany watched her. She watched her hair, how soft it would move when Santana tucked some strands away from her face and how the darkness just made her want to softly run her fingers through it. She watched her wrists and how tiny they were compared to her own, and yet she couldn't imagine being there without the help of Santana's strength.

Her eyes traveled upwards and when they got there, she found brown eyes looking straight into her blues. For a split second she thought she was going to look away, embarrassed for being caught. But those eyes, she loved looking into them more than anything else. She just couldn't ignore them.

"You were staring," Santana stated almost in a whisper as she smiled softly.

"I know," Brittany smiled back and replied with the same quietness. "I'm letting myself fall deeper."

Santana chuckled. "Wow," she said. "If it didn't come from you and if I wasn't so ridiculously happy right now, I'd roll that sentence down a cliff and leave."

"Lucky for me you love me then," Brittany wiggled her eyebrows.

"No," Santana stood up, picked up both their plates and sauntered into the kitchen. "Lucky for _me_ you love me."

They spent the rest of the morning lounging around the house. Brushing hands against each other's as much as they could with the intention of just that; touching each other. At one point, when Santana was getting tired and anxious waiting for a good time to get ready for their date, she just scooted over on the couch and gave Brittany a peck.

"What was that for?"

"I need a reason?"

Brittany shook her head. "Not really."

"Then shut up and kiss me," Santana leaned forward again. She was greeted by Brittany's lips as the blonde smiled into their kiss.

Santana had succeeded. Their date was pretty amazing– although Brittany thought Santana could never go wrong in doing anything– and Santana had Quinn to thank. Sort of.

Santana and Quinn ended up just talking about nothing and everything after totally giving up on Google. Santana gave her a general update about the current condition in the Schuesters' residence– which was pretty boring compared to their situation not too long ago; something that Santana was entirely grateful about– and Quinn gave her the lowdown about what had been happening at school while she was out. Apparently one of the Cheerios' parents had opened a dance studio for kids, and now that it was summer, the studio was temporarily closed as they wait for the children to come back from their vacation.

Santana, of course, couldn't pass up the chance. She put a finger on her lips (to which Quinn protested, "did you just shush me?!") and immediately dialed a number that belonged to the Cheerio-with-a-studio. After a minute of awkward chit-chat and a few more of haggling, Santana got away from the conversation with a whole day of studio use. It didn't cost her a lot, just a promise that she would leave that particular Cheerio alone instead of calling out her mistakes. Of course, the only reason why she had agreed to it was because the conversation was in conference mode and Quinn shot her a look that told her _she_ would take care of the Cheerio. Well, that and the fact that she knew Brittany would love her idea.

And she was right.

Before she even got out of Puck's truck, Brittany was already exploding inwardly with happiness. A dance studio. A freaking dance studio! She had been waiting to come back to one since that day at McKinley when Sue had walked in on her.

"Santana, are we allowed to be here?" asked Brittany as she stepped into the building, Santana holding the door for her.

The darker girl nodded. "We are. You can do whatever you want. We got full use of all the rooms until 9PM tonight."

The dialog was cut short by a door that happened to be in Brittany's way. A glance at Santana earned her an encouraging nod that she took as a 'go ahead', so she opened the door.

"Oh my..." Brittany gasped. Her eyes went from wall to wall (well, mirror to mirror) from floor to ceiling and she couldn't decide whether to keep her heart inside her body or just let it out free from its cage.

The whole room was decorated with christmas lights. There weren't a lot of them, considering all Santana had was the Schuesters' box of christmas decoration from the basement, and to make up for it Santana had asked Quinn to buy flowers and complete the setting that morning.

"How did you..." Brittany trailed off as she twirled in the center of the room, taking in the beautiful bubble that she was in. Santana didn't even bother to turn on the actual lights so the room was somewhat dim. And perfect.

"I got my ways," Santana hung back and leaned against one of the walls on her right shoulder, watching Brittany be mesmerized by the sight. In all honesty, she really didn't think the room would've looked that good. But she could gawk over it later. Now, it's all about Brittany.

"You've been missing dancing, I can see it. So," Santana walked over to the back of the room and connected her iPod to the speakers. Then she made a gesture to let Brittany know that she was in charge of the music too. "Dance."

Brittany looked at Santana and took steps towards her girlfriend. "What are _you_ going to do?"

"I can leave you alone if you want? I was thinking about coming back with dinner in about an hour."

"No," Brittany grabbed Santana's hand and moved her thumb across her wrists. "No, please stay. This is our date, and if you've gone out of your way for all of this," she looked around the room before returning her gaze to Santana, "then I'm going to give you something."

"Um," Santana looked at her phone. It was nearing 6.30 already. "What about dinner?"

"Dinner can wait. This is our date and I don't want you to leave. We can always get something delivered," Brittany pulled Santana to a spot near the back wall from which she could see the whole room and motioned for Santana to sit down. Then she walked back to where the iPod was docked and picked a song. "I've had this in my head since the first time I heard the song at Puck's football game," she explained. "And now, more than ever, since we got the place and everything... I need to show you this."

The guitar intro came on to the speakers and Brittany came back to the center of the room. She started moving to the music effortlessly, like she had done the dance a thousand times before and had it memorized.

And two minutes were all Santana had before she cried– a minute and forty-seven seconds before the song ended. She couldn't help it. There was something about the way Brittany moved. There was something about the way Brittany's arms were reaching out for her the same time as Chris Martin was singing, _"my heart is yours, it's you that I hold on to," _that broke down her barricade. It wasn't a loud sobbing cry, no. It was more of a one, two tears each time and Santana was convinced that she was melting from the inside. Kind of like icicles that formed on the roof of your house.

_I saw sparks._

That was the line as the song faded out and Brittany landed on her knees right in front of Santana. Her wet blue eyes met Santana's brown ones and Santana internally broke down. She didn't just saw sparks. She held a whole bonfire for Brittany in her heart.

"That was beautiful. Thank you," Santana whispered as her thumb wiped the tears wetting the underside of Brittany's eyes even though her own were watering just as much. "Just... thank you."

oOoOo

Your body doesn't forget.

Your mind can be trained to forget, but your body doesn't forget. If you learned how to swim when you were little, then stopped completely for months, or even years, you would at least still be able to float once you come back into the water. Ther'es a built-in memory in your brain that registers all those learned movements into reflexes, just like how a computer opens certain applications every time it turns on. Or how a person with amnesia can automatically do their signature, even though they have no idea what their names are.

Which sucks for Brittany.

It had lessened, by a lot, but sometimes she still woke up in the middle of the night, waiting for that door to open. Waiting for someone to come in and make her do things. Things that broke her, physically and metaphorically every night. And there were one thousand two hundred and ninety-two of those nights. She counted.

At night she'd lay there in her bed, so still that even her chest wouldn't go up and down with her breathing.

Sometimes she wouldn't breathe at all.

But sometimes, on better nights, she'd have enough control of her mind that she could force herself to move. More than most of those times, she would end up looking to her right— to a bed where Santana was sleeping— and felt her muscles relax. She would feel her lungs slowly filling themselves with air again. Like she had been chained to a block of cement at the bottom of the ocean and Santana was the only one with the key.

But her body still remembered, and that was what she was secretly afraid of. It wasn't the fact that she, along with Santana, was responsible to the well-being of Will and Emma's house, and it had nothing to do with the fact that she had heard ghost stories that involved empty houses. Instead, the fact that she was going to be alone with Santana, in an empty house, for a whole weekend, was the very thing she was afraid of the most.

It's a disgusting thought, that she still could hear_ him_ in her ears feeding her with nonsense and promises of stopping. She could still feel him touching her, violating her. She could still smell his overly priced cologne breaching her senses until she couldn't tell if she was still alive or was indeed dead, was breathing or was simply letting go of her soul with each puff of air she exhaled.

She shouldn't feel that way, she knew, because Santana was her anchor. Because Santana was the one person that she could feel safe around, and because the only problem that she had was only in her had and it had absolutely nothing to do with Santana whatsoever.

But now it did.

The drive back from the studio was quiet. Not specifically because of Brittany's nervousness but a culmination of everything at once. Santana kept spacing out at Stop signs (and at very few of them she actually forgot to stop) and in a way, it calmed Brittany down a little bit. It wasn't hard to figure out that Santana was nervous too– albeit not for the same reasons.

Santana stood in front of her now. In their room. About 3 feet away, looking like she was either going to vomit, or that she was trying to calm her heart rate down before she took a few steps forward. Judging from the shy smile that was forming on her lips though, Brittany was sure it was the latter.

"So," Santana started awkwardly. "Here we are."

"Yep," Brittany nodded. "Here we are."

"Did you... have a nice night?"

Brittany nodded again with a grin. "I did. Thanks, San. I haven't danced like that since... well, you know since when."

Santana took Brittany's hands and kissed her knuckles. "I got us the space and all but I think I'm the one who's supposed to thank you because, really, you were amazing. I've never seen anybody dance like that."

Brittany chuckled. "I don't think you've ever seen _anybody_ dance, like, ever."

"Well, that's kinda true," Santana scrunched her face and leaned forward to give Brittany a peck. "But you're still number one."

"Mm," Brittany smiled into the kiss. All her fears forgotten momentarily. "Am I really?"

"Really, really," Santana kissed her again and moved her hands to cup Brittany's face. She held her there for a moment and deepened the kiss as they both closed her eyes, letting everything else lose their meanings.

Everything did, and both of them had their hands on less than innocent places, trying to feel and learn by heart each and every inch of the other one's body. Both were panting and neither one was going to lie that there weren't enjoying the heat. Things escalated more and Santana's hand managed to sneak in between Brittany's shirt and skin, resting on the top part of Brittany's bare waist.

Brittany felt her heart stop. She pulled back from their kiss, thinking (wishing) that it was just because she needed to come up for air.

"What is it?" Santana carefully asked. She studied Brittany's face and saw something there that she couldn't figure out yet.

Brittany closed her eyes and shook her head. "Nothing. I just needed some oxygen."

Soon enough they were kissing again, making their way onto the bed. Once they got there, with Brittany's back lying down on the mattress, Santana made a trail with her kisses down to the blonde's collarbone, stopping briefly at her neck. Her left hand slowly moved upwards underneath Brittany's top and it rested just under Brittany's bra.

"Britt," Santana felt Brittany's abdomen tense and held herself up with her free arm. "Britt, are you alright?"

"Yeah," Brittany breathed out and nodded. "I'm good," she lied and stretched her neck up to meet Santana's lips with her own. To make her act even more convincing, she slipped her hand into Santana's shirt and roamed the skin of Santana's back and stomach.

Of course, Santana bought the lie. She had her doubts before, but really, who would be thinking straight when their girlfriend's hands were making circles so close to their breasts?

Not long after that, they were both lying there on Brittany's bed without their shirts on, Santana on top of Brittany. She grazed Brittany's bottom lip with her tongue and tugged it gently with her teeth as she moved her left hand upwards to the blonde's right breast. She slowly pushed the bra cup and sighed inwardly when she felt Brittany's nipple touching her palm.

But the bliss didn't last long.

Brittany started shaking. Not the usual kind of shakes, though. Her shoulders were shaking because she was crying.

"Brittany?" Santana panicked. Brittany was crying and whimpering under her and she didn't know why. "Brittany, why are you crying?"

"I'm sorry," Brittany sobbed. "I'm sorry, I'm sorry."

Santana pulled her hand off Brittany's chest and caressed the blonde tear stained cheek. "Hey, no," she said softly. "Ssh. What are you apologizing for?"

"I can't, Santana. I can't," cried Brittany again. "He's everywhere. I can feel him."

Santana's eyes widened. How could she be so stupid and selfish? She should've known better when Brittany pulled away from her– _twice_.

"Sshh... Britt, sshhh," she fit herself as well as she could into the tiny bed and wrapped her arms around Brittany. "I'm sorry," she whispered. "I didn't think– I... I'm sorry, sshhh. It's okay. I want you to look at me," Santana pulled away and cupped Brittany's face, making sure that Brittany was indeed looking at her. "Don't you dare apologize, okay? It's not your fault. Remember that. It's _not_ your fault."

Brittany responded with a sob and a few weak nods as she nuzzled into the crook of Santana's neck.

oOoOo

"Are you all better, B?" whispered Santana as she stroked Brittany's hair and the blue-eyed girl nodded slowly. "Why didn't you tell me?"

"I didn't know how," Brittany hiccuped. "I wanted it to happen, I really do! You gotta trust me."

"Ssh... I know, I know," Santana gave her a kiss on the forehead. "But Brittany, I don't want you to hide it from me. Talk to me," she gave her a second kiss.

"I couldn't," said Brittany as she shook her head. "You're graduating next year. There's a chance that you'll be leaving me then, and it's hard enough to think about it. I can't tell you that I can't have sexy times with you. What if... what if you leave me now?"

"Oh, Britt," she caressed Brittany's cheek with her thumb. "If you think I'd leave you because of this, then you're wrong. I'm not in this for just the sexy times, Brittany. I'm not in this because of the kisses– well, okay maybe a little because kissing you is awesome," she poked Brittany's cheek and it earned her a stifled smile.

"It _is_ kinda awesome," Brittany replied with a sniffle and Santana secretly sighed in relief.

"Brittany, you need to know that I'm all in," Santana squeezed Brittany's hand after a beat. "Everything. I'm _all. In._"

Brittany choked. It was exactly what she needed to hear; Santana telling her that the physical things didn't matter. That even though she was all messed up in the head, Santana was there for her. She would always be there for her.

"Sing for me," Brittany whispered a shaky breath. "Will you sing for me?"

Santana brought her lips down to touch Brittany's blonde hair and kept them there. "Anything," she nodded.

_"All my little plans and schemes," _Santana started singing in the softest voice ever, it was almost inaudible. Like she was scared the world would take her words away from Brittany. _"Lost like some forgotten dreams,"_ she fixed her positions that they were now face to face, brown eyes to blues. _"Seems that all I really was doing," _she moved her left hand to stroke long blonde hair and her thumb to wipe any traces of tears on the corner of Brittany's eyes. _"Was waiting for you."_

_"Just like little girls and boys... playing with their little toys," _Santana reached out for the blanket that was touching the foot of the bed and covered them both up to their necks. _"Seems like all they really were doing... was waiting for love."_

After making sure that they were both warm and covered up, she snaked her left arm under Brittany's neck to support the girl's head. _"Don't need to be alone," _she sang as Brittany nuzzled into her neck. Then she inched closer to the blonde, as close as she could get.

_"No need to be alone," _she stroked Brittany's hair again and the latter girl's eyes fluttered, heavy with comfort. And when Santana was singing to her that it was real love, Brittany took a deep breath, believing in her promise.

Brittany must've gotten lost in Santana's soothing voice for a moment because when she came to, she was all wrapped up in Santana's arms. And even though it was faint, she could swear Santana was telling her– singing to her, _"don't need to be afraid. No need to be afraid."_

_No need to be afraid._

No need to be afraid.

No need to be afraid, and it was enough for the night.

oOoOo

_From this moment on I know_

_Exactly where my life will go_

_Seems that all I really was doing_

_Was waiting for love_

_/_

_Don't need to be afraid_

_No need to be afraid_

_It's real love, it's real_

_Yes it's real love, it's real_

_/_

_Thought I'd been in love before_

_But in my heart I wanted more_

_Seems like all I really was doing_

_Was waiting for you_


	37. Epilogue

**Epilogue**

"Well," Santana sat on the ground. "Here we are," a pause. "You know, I never thought this day would ever come, like, at all... but I guess I was wrong."

A wind blew past them and she wiped her eyes clear of the dust that flew in them. "I'm going. Today," she took a deep breath. "I'm leaving Lima for college and I'm not sure if I'm coming back. I mean, of course I'll be back for Thanksgiving, Christmas and stuff like that... but I don't know when I'll be _back_ back. I'm sorry."

A sound of cracking branches stole her attention for a second and Santana looked over her shoulder. All she saw was the same playground that had been on the same spot ever since she joined the Schuester's household, several excited little kids and their equally happy parents.

Santana turned her head around again, "So I won't be seeing you for a while– which, I guess, is kind of a good thing. I mean, you won't have to listen to me anymore, and I... well, I kinda really _should_ stop talking to you sooner or later anyway, so... yeah. I guess it's a good thing."

"Hey," a hand appeared from behind Santana and laid gently on her shoulder. "Are you saying goodbye?"

"Mm-hmm," Santana replied without taking her eyes off the tree. Her tree. "I just wanna make sure I'm not abandoning him. Or her or it."

"Mm," Brittany, the owner of the hand, sat next to her. "You _do_ realize you're talking to a tree, right?"

"I do, I just... This tree's been there for me this whole time. It's not fair if I leave without saying goodbye."

Brittany chuckled and gave her a kiss on the cheek. "You sound more like me every day."

Santana smiled and leaned on Brittany's kiss. "Again, you say it like it's a bad thing."

"You're such a secret softie, Santana."

"I blame you," Santana shrugged. "You turn me into mush every time."

"I take that blame with honor," Brittany laughed and Santana watched her with a warm look in her eyes.

They had gone so far, both of them. Once broken little girls, one of them even got broken twice, and now they're on their way out of the small town to the enchanting lights of New York City.

Santana had stayed in Lima, completing classes at the community college after graduating from McKinley. She had stayed for three things. One of them was Brittany, of course, the other was the major that the school was offering: Human Service. She figured that even if she couldn't get out of Lima, she could at least be proud of what she was studying and the promise of helping foster kids like her in the future. The third thing that kept her there in Lima was the fact that she didn't want to burden the Schuesters with her tuition when they had to think about Puck's as well. Education is education, she thought, and in her head geography did not limit success.

All of those things worked themselves out.

As it turned out, Santana didn't have to wait long for Brittany. The blue-eyed girl was determined to not hold Santana back– and to push herself harder. After further consideration which included lots and lots of conversations with everybody in the family (including Puck), she decided to go through the rest of her high school education being home schooled. Nancy had hired the best tutors to help Brittany get her high school diploma as fast as she could– and once they learned that Santana's community colliege allowed high school students to earn college credits, everybody worked together to get Brittany enrolled in those classes.

Sue Sylvester, bless her cruel yet loving heart, kept track of Santana's progress through her first year of college and notified an acquaintance who happened to teach at SUNY's School of Social Welfare in Albany. Of course, the professor was tremendously impressed with Santana's academic achievements, but it was her story (told by Sue) that drew him to her. He was willing to offer her a grant that was enough to get her through one year of studies. Her chance to get an extension would have to depend on how well she carried out her classes, but the offer alone was good enough for Nancy to agree to help with the rest of her tuition.

Nancy revealed that it was her intention from the very start– to help the Schuesters and Santana with her education costs. It was the least that she could do to "repay" Santana for everything that she had done for Brittany and herself. Santana declined at first, knowing that Nancy was to pay for Brittany's education too, but the woman insisted saying that if Doug had lived to see his money being spent for Santana's education, he would've been furious.

Now _that_ was an offer Santana couldn't pass (though she still promised Nancy that she would pay her back).

So she said yes and tried to finish as many classes as she could at the community college, while helping Brittany with her studies just like how she always did when they were little kids. This time, with no objections, no interruptions from anybody. Everyone knew that their method of studying was effective, not just for Brittany, but for Santana as well because in order to "tell a story" to Brittany, she needed to learn everything about that certain subject.

Brittany was very grateful for her help. Santana's storytelling had definitely made studying an easier affair– plus, it earned her a lot of time spent with Santana now that she was living full time with Nancy. Although, now that she had the time to think about it, Brittany thought that the studying wasn't the paramount factor that helped her through the struggle. Rather, it was Santana's push, telling her over and over again that Brittany could do it. That she had the ability to get a high school diploma _and_ college credits at the same time. Santana made her believe in her own magic.

Once Santana's first year of college was over, Brittany had gotten enough college credits to transfer with Santana. Prior to that, they did some research on what type of major would fit Brittany. The blonde wanted to just forgo college and jump straight into professional dance training, but Nancy wanted her to test the waters first– to enroll in the same university as Santana while still taking dance classes. If after a semester or two Brittany decided she still wanted to pursue professional dance, then she was free to do so.

A reasonable request. What mother wouldn't want her daughter to succeed? Nancy had done a bang up job in proving her worth as a mom so far and Brittany had no doubt that she would always look out for her. Santana, too. And not just because Nancy was paying for her school.

"What?" asked Brittany. Santana had been looking– staring– at her for a full minute now with a look in her eyes that told Brittany that she was everything. The look that never failed to anchor Brittany in her weakest moments.

"Nothing," smiled Santana. "Just thinking... we've come a long way, you and I."

Brittany nodded with a smile and a gleam in her blue eyes. "Yeah, we have."

"If you hadn't gone and disappeared that day, I wouldn't have been a sobbing mess at the curbside. I wouldn't have figured out how important you are to me," Santana chuckled and shook her head at a distant memory.

"Yeah, you were pretty slow," Brittany playfully nudged Santana's shoulder with her own and Santana leaned her head on it. "Hey," Brittany gave a kiss on the top of Santana's head.

"Hm?"

"Are you happy?"

Santana closed her eyes and sighed. "I'm perfect. We are."

"Even if we're–"

"That doesn't matter," Santana cut Brittany off and gave her hand a squeeze. She knew it would always be an issue to Brittany that they still hadn't had a lot of success when it came to sex, no matter how many times she told her that she would give her as much time as she needed. Rest assured, there had been progress Brittany had been talking to someone about it. And yeah, that someone was a redhead and sometimes still had a fondness towards cleaning products, but it was easier for her to discuss her issues with someone who was already in the know _and_ Brittany's fear had subsided more and more. Almost gone. Almost.

"I've told you a million times already, B. We'll get there someday. Together."

"I know," Brittany looked down and played with her fingers. "I just don't get it. Why would you wait for me?"

Santana shrugged. "Because I love you? Look," Santana cupped Brittany's face and looked straight into her eyes. "There is _nothing_ I would change right now."

"Really?"

"Well, I guess we could probably skip Hell altogether," she gave Brittany a sad half smile that was returned with the same kind of smile. "And I guess I'm still kind of wondering why my..." she cleared her throat, "why my dad left. But other than that, when it comes to us... I'm good."

"I've been meaning to tell you this since forever but I kept forgetting about it," Brittany told her. "I think... the reason why your dad left, is because for everybody, there's always that one person they'd do everything for. One person they'd die for. One person they couldn't live without. And to your dad it was your mom. I mean, I'm not justifying him leaving you, but..." Brittany trailed off when she saw Santana staring at her.

It was a simple answer, and Brittany didn't really know why Santana hadn't figure it out before, but it worked wonders. For the first time since the day she found her father hanging from the ceiling, Santana finally made sense of it all. Maybe because she now knew what it felt like to have that someone, or maybe just because she was a little bit wiser than the 9-year-old Antonio Lopez had left behind (she had a feeling that it was the first one), but one thing is sure: she was suddenly not as angry as she was before. And it was all because of Brittany's simple logic.

Santana didn't answer her girlfriend right away. Instead, she gave her a kiss right on the lips. "Britt," Santana breathed out. She rested their foreheads together and put a hand on Brittany's cheek, her thumb going back and forth slowly caressing it. "You know you just answered your own question, right?"

Brittany furrowed her eyebrows, trying to make sense of what Santana was telling her._ Question? What questio– OH._

"Come on," Brittany blushed and grinned, stood up and offered Santana hand. It was an unsaid 'I love you to the moon and back' that only Santana could understand. Brittany scrunched her nose and grinned at the same time. "The world is waiting for us."

Santana accepted the offer, kept her hand in Brittany's and walked a step behind her girlfriend, tucking a strand of blown hair behind her ear with her free hand. She looked over her shoulder and sent her tree a silent goodbye with a smile, giving it the gratitude it deserved, and she could swear the tree answered her back with a rustle of its leaves.

Brittany gave her hand a squeeze and pulled it gently so that they were walking side by side to the car. Their charm bracelets brushed each other's and they both shared a knowing look.

The world is waiting for them, and this time, nobody was letting them go.

* * *

><p><em>AN: I just wanna say thank you. Thank you so much for reading this story, leaving reviews, pressing the fave & alert buttons. They really mean a lot to me. I've learned so much while I was writing this story. Not just about the characters, but also about everyone who's left me messages and even about myself._

_I had to stop here because life just presented me a surprise that leaves me with little to no time to write at all. If I forced myself to continue, this will not end good. __But, as you can see, I'm leaving this open-ended... so that maybe I could go back in and write a sequel. Someday. Maybe. Hopefully._

_So. goodbye for now. Again, thank you, thank you, thank you so, so much for everything. Hit me up via reviews or PM about anything, I'll try my best to reply them all._

_Stay safe, take care of each other. :)_


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